


Asocial Media

by BrynTWedge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxious Mycroft, Fanfiction, M/M, Online Friends, Self-Esteem Issues, Social Media, Young Greg Lestrade - Freeform, Young Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-02-10 13:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: It starts as a casual interest, but before he knows it… Mycroft has been absorbed into the world of fanfiction. He creates an account on a website, comments on stories, and even posts some of his own - initially telling himself it was to learn more about human interactions. One user is particularly talkative with him, and manages to coax him into conversing in a chat program. As distant as Mycroft tries to be, he can’t help but enjoy the company… and finds himself with his first, and only, friend. Mycroft then is faced with a new issue: falling in love with someone he’s never met.





	1. Chapter 1

Mycroft knew by all accounts, it shouldn't have happened. But he got some kind of dark pleasure out of having a whole different life, one that was separate from his normal one filled with pressures, secrets, and annoying little brothers. Having something that he enjoyed that no one else knew about, which strictly speaking, he shouldn't partake in. He wasn't even sure why, but it just seemed right that a secret service politician shouldn't have an online presence, or waste his time on fan fiction. He was twenty-six, after all... he should be doing better things with his time, right?

For a long time, Mycroft simply observed. It all started from getting curious one day after watching some of his favourite tv series, _Stargate Atlantis,_ and so he went looking online about it. Originally it was just curiosity about the episode itself; how it was made, the ideas behind it, how the graphics were done... things along those lines. But that's when he saw a link appear on that website to a story someone had written following up from said episode... and having some time spare, he clicked it. 

After reading it, he wanted more. He was interested regarding other ideas that writers had. Some were great, and some were cringeworthy. He had often found that he wanted to create an account with _FanFicbook_ simply to comment corrections to authors. The grammar was awful in many cases, but he tried to just let it slide. Not everyone had his education, or intelligence, after all. It wasn't until one particular story that he found enthralling started making extremely blatant scientific errors that he felt obliged to do so. 

And that's how he found himself here, sitting before a screen, attempting to think of a username that both reflected him and was obscure enough that it would never be traced back to him. Many users had strange things as their usernames, and some had normal-sounding names that made Mycroft wonder if they used their real names. After longer than he'd care to admit, Mycroft settled on the username ' _SuitedLizard_ '. He found an image on a random site of a Komodo dragon wearing a tie to use as his avatar. Satisfied, Mycroft then 'liked' the work he was reading, and commented on it with some suggestions on how to improve the content so that the mistakes wouldn't detract from the story. He was sure to pad his words with compliments, to ensure the writer wasn't offended by his suggestions - he did really enjoy the narrative, however found the inaccuracies too cumbersome to look past. His observations on human behaviour suggested that people were more receptive to criticism if they were complimented first. 

Mycroft then commented on some of the other works he'd read and enjoyed. He liked that other people shared topics he liked, particularly a pairing. Mycroft personally found the idea of a brilliant, socially awkward, and seemingly arrogant scientist having a relationship with a skilled, kind, loveable, and understanding doctor was intriguing. They complimented each other perfectly, so much so that the writers of the show had made them best friends. There were many instances where if Mycroft watched the scenes thinking that the two were a couple, it seemed evident that was the case. He was glad to discover he wasn't the only person to think so. 

Before he knew it, it was two in the morning.  
"Shit." Mycroft uttered under his breath, and closed his laptop. He had to start at seven, and tardiness was not appreciated by his boss.

 

~

 

Mycroft spent much of his day fantasising. There was hardly anything intellectually challenging, or even stimulating, about his job. He was essentially just a personal assistant for a member of parliament, but worked with the secret service unbeknownst to his boss. His job was to appear like an average PA, but use his detailed knowledge about the world and its secrets to help direct public parliament for Britain's interests. It meant that while his work was important, it was mind-numbingly dull most of the time. Filling in schedules, fetching coffee, lying about his boss's attire... he didn't know why his boss had decided that she needed to ask Mycroft if she was 'lookin' good' every day. Mycroft took great pride in his appearance, and often ended up dressing more formally than his boss. He just _liked_ three-piece suits. He couldn't afford the really nice fitted ones, but at least the ones he did have were adequate. In the political world, a nice suit was like battle armour. And Mycroft never wanted to leave home vulnerable without his armour. He never wanted people to see what he was like underneath the mask and suits. He was terrified of the reactions and consequences. This, however, meant that Mycroft spent much of his life in isolation. He didn't have anyone to call a friend, he didn't have anyone to talk to about things that interested him, and he didn't have anyone he could relax with. There was only him. And it was lonely. 

By lunch time, Mycroft had already thought of an entire plot for a fan fiction. He hadn't tried his hand at writing, and was afraid that his mannerisms would reflect in the writing and leave the story seeming cold and detached. While he liked stories that included interesting word choices and scientific principles, he found the most engaging stories were emotional ones. Mycroft wasn't sure he quite qualified enough to write such a story. But, then again, no one he knew would be reading it. It was just for himself... and so writing the emotions he so desperately hid from everyone wouldn't cause any negative consequences. 

He was alone in the office, and so after scanning about cautiously, opened up a new document. He stared at the blank screen for a while, before deciding that the best way to start would be to just write as if he was talking to someone. Storytelling had 'telling' in the name, so he couldn't be completely wrong in his idea. Once he'd started, he found that it was fairly easy to continue. He'd written two chapters before he knew it. He even continued it whilst his boss was in her office; typing away at his computer made it sound like he was doing work, and if anything that needed to be done came up, he'd do it immediately. 

Mycroft checked the website after having dinner to see if anyone had responded to his comments. One person had, and it was surprisingly positive. They accepted his suggestions to correct some medical inaccuracies they had written, and thanked him for reading. Mycroft smiled. It was not often that his suggestions were taken with so much grace. People usually snapped back at him or sulked to themselves for being proven wrong by someone they assumed to be 'below' them. Mycroft found he rather liked the dynamic of the website where there wasn't an immediately assumed hierarchy. He knew that some people were more popular than others, and so didn't take time to respond or interact with all of their commenters, but such was to be expected. And it was a position that had been earned, starting out from no where. It was so different to Mycroft's day job where people were automatically more 'right' because they were more important in some regard. That regard was often because they, or their parents, had known someone also of this assumed importance. 

The small positive feedback gave Mycroft some confidence to read more, and comment more. He found that the most common inaccuracies were medically related, as writers not from a medical background were attempting to write about the life of a doctor. Mycroft could understand it, but still... sometimes, he wished people would just do a little bit of research. Giving someone with O+ blood an infusion of A- is a horrendous error to write, and yet so simple to avoid. 

After some time reading through the comments, he noticed that they tended to occur in groups. The same people would comment on a particular author's work, and conversely, that author would comment on the others' works. He suspected that these users knew each other on some level beyond just reading stories on a website. One user, _PintofJustice_ , seemed to comment _a lot_ on other's work, but hadn't written anything themselves. It was fairly easy to deduce their field of work, a police officer, given the username, avatar (a police badge submerged in a pint of beer), and the topics of conversation they'd offer. Mycroft found it interesting to be able to observe social behaviour without people being aware that he was there observing them. It was indeed harder to tell a lot about people through their comments and profile than it was to deduce their life stories from a glance of their person, but the challenge and sheer mystery of it all intrigued Mycroft. 

 

~

 

A week after Mycroft had created and account with _FanFicbook_ , he already had responses to most of the comments he'd given. One person was rather rude and abrupt, telling him politely to 'fuck off'. Other than that particular user, the responses were nice. Authors seemed to enjoy other people reading, and then commenting, on their works. Mycroft wondered if it was akin to praise. Humans always seemed to love praise, even if it wasn't earned. He still had trouble working out human behaviour, and he didn't have a whole lot of personal experience to make his assumptions on. He often considered himself more of an outsider; smart enough to observe the behaviour and attempt to mimic it enough to get by in the human world, but never really one of them. Sherlock was also an outsider, but apparently lacked the ability to understand the behaviour enough to avoid pain. 

While he was reading one shorter story, something predictable about Carson and Rodney getting trapped in a cave, his email alerted him that he’d received a reply. He cast his mind back, unable to recall any comment he’d left that hadn’t been replied to. Mycroft went to his dashboard. 

  * _PintofJustice:_ Hey, I noticed you gave a lot of insightful comments recently like this one, but haven’t posted any work. Just wondering if you had any stories written? Don’t be shy about sharing :) 



Mycroft frowned at the use of the emoticon. He found it strange that someone was addressing him first… was this normal human behaviour? And they seemed interested in his own work purely just out of curiosity. Mycroft hummed uncertainly to himself. No one ever had been interested in his work without some kind of selfish motive before. Mycroft decided to respond to the comment, against his better judgement. 

  * _SuitedLizard:_ Thank you for your words. I, as of this moment, have not yet completed a work to share. I was unsure whether or not to post it. 



He returned to finish reading the story, albeit with a lot more anxiety swirling in his gut. He didn’t have to wait long for a reply, thankfully. 

  * _PintofJustice:_ You don’t have to finish it before you post it! You can just submit what you have, chapter by chapter. I don’t mean to tell you what to do! :) I was just curious. 



Again, an emoticon. Mycroft was starting to wonder about this user’s age. A wave of panic overwhelmed Mycroft at the realisation that he was interacting with people that were entirely anonymous, and therefore could be _anyone_. He could be conversing with a fourteen-year-old girl. In the case of _PintofJustice,_ it wasn’t likely, but some of the other authors definitely could be as young as that. And he’d commented on their works.  
_Deep breaths…_

Mycroft was able to swallow the panic inside himself. He did’t know why it scared him to know so little about the users. Ultimately it didn’t matter… he was only interested in the ideas the authors presented in their works. But it still bothered him on some subconscious level… perhaps because it was so unfamiliar. But all of this was unfamiliar, wasn’t it? And the anonymity of it was precisely why Mycroft was able to participate. And perhaps even experiment with boundaries?

  * _SuitedLizard:_ If I do, would you be interested in reading it?
  * _PintofJustice:_ Duh! That’s why I asked!
  * _SuitedLizard:_ Very well. Please excuse any grammatical errors, I have not proof-read it properly yet. 
  * _PintofJustice:_ If it’s anything like your comments, I’m sure it’ll be fine :3



Fifteen minutes later, Mycroft had posted the first chapter to his first fan fiction. His stomach flipped uncomfortably over and over from the anxiety which he couldn’t place. No one knew it was him posting it, and the only person who’d find out wouldn’t care in the slightest. Thinking of Sherlock, Mycroft decided he should probably call his brother to see how he was getting on. 

“Good evening, brother mine.”  
“What do you want, Mycroft?” Sherlock’s voice grumbled.   
“I am just checking up on you.”   
“You don’t have to watch me all the time, you know.”  
“Well, this was more out of concern for your wellbeing rather than ensuring correct behaviour. I take that to mean that you have indeed been good?” Mycroft hummed.   
“You know where to shove it.”  
“Enough with the hostility, brother. I simply want to know how you are coping with your study load.”  
“Fine. The work’s dead easy, but it’s at least interesting this time.”   
“Good to hear.” Mycroft said, inclining his head. There was an awkward silence as neither was sure if it was a good time to end the call politely.   
“Your work is boring as always, I assume?” Sherlock asked. Mycroft raised his eyebrow.   
“Quite. I seem to be on the receiving end of an endless stream of mundane tasks. It would all be so much easier if I could just replace the idiots giving me the work.” Mycroft groaned. He honestly would prefer to be the one giving the orders and not having to deal with the small selfish minds of the general population.   
“One day you’ll get to run the government, Myc, but you have to lick some arse to get there.”  
“Where on _Earth_ did you pick up that expression? I don’t think that’s exactly how it goes…”  
“Just some of the kids at uni.” Sherlock said nonchalantly.   
“I’m beginning to think that university is becoming a bad influence upon you, dear brother.”  
“Yeah well, too bad. You don’t have the power to force me to do anything yet.”  
“Have a good night, Sherlock. I will talk to you again soon.” Mycroft sighed, realising that the conversation was going to go nowhere from now on. 

Mycroft ran his fingers through his auburn hair, trying not to think about it thinning out on the edges, and took a deep breath. He’d hoped that Sherlock focusing on something he wanted to study would keep him away from temptation, but it was sounding like he was once again spending time with the wrong crowd. And it was frustrating to him that his little brother was right: he _didn’t_ have the power to force Sherlock to do anything, or manipulate the situation for Sherlock’s benefit. Maybe one day, he thought with a wistful tone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SuitedLizard: 
> 
> PintofJustice: 


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft found that he was enjoying the compliments users paid him for his work. It was strange;he had never sought for praise before in his life, and had always condoned others doing things solely for that purpose… and now he was actually looking forward to waking up in the morning and checking to see if anyone else had left a comment. The short conversations he’d have in those comments were more meaningful to him than his entire day at work. 

He’d spoken fairly often with _PintofJustice_ , who rather liked his work, and felt himself developing a familiarity with the user. Part of his mind told him it was silly, but a stronger part longed for companionship in any form. He couldn’t get it in his normal life, since he had to be the calm detached unsociable person he presented at work, and he didn’t know anyone else other than Sherlock in his off hours. He never took much interest in things that would lead to socialising: going to pubs, engaging in sports, viewing sports… other activities where people might congregate… he really wasn’t good at it. But it seemed there was a small group of people on this website that did share an interest of his, and were willing to interact with him. 

Mycroft posted the final chapter to his first story. It was a reasonable length, twenty thousand words long, and involved Carson working with Rodney to fix a malfunctioning Ancient device that was causing randomised illnesses and injuries to the team members on the Atlantis base. Mycroft had been wary about including a lot of the physics details that Rodney undertook, as well as the in-depth medical procedures that Carson performed; he didn’t want to appear as a know-it-all and displease the commenters. It was an inexplicable attachment, Mycroft knew it, but he still was afraid of losing the only positive feedback he’d ever gotten. He decided to just be himself, and hope that it was well received. He concluded that he’d prefer to be somewhat-liked for who he was, than well-liked for someone he pretended to be. He had enough of pretending to be someone else in the remainder of his life.

_PintofJustice_ commented on the last chapter not long after Mycroft had finished dinner. _Interesting, they must still have me on alert._ Mycroft had come to that conclusion before, but was always somehow convinced that this person would decide that they didn’t like it (him) anymore, and abandon him. Not that he cared… no. It was only a passing acquaintance. Or, so he tried to tell himself. In reality, he cared a great deal, however admitting it would mean he would have to accept his attachment to the strangers. 

_PintofJustice:_ That was fantastic! I loved it all, obviously, but you ended it really well.  
_SuitedLizard:_ Thank you. Your comments have always been of great support.  
_PintofJustice:_ I’m glad. I wish I could write, but I’m shite at it. I just say whatever’s on my brain, and it doesn’t always come out right, you know?  
_SuitedLizard:_ I’m sure you could learn. I would be happy to look over any documents you have and make suggestions for improvements.

Mycroft wasn’t sure why he’d offered to do that, but he knew he wanted to. It wasn’t so much to repay the user for their valued attention than it was more of a means to remain in contact with them. He was tempted to retract his offer before it was read, but knew that was too risky. A lot of negative things could be inferred from a retracted offer such as that. 

_PintofJustice:_ Oh, thank you! I might, maybe, one day. I’m often rather busy and so haven’t started anything. I’ll let you know if I do, though! Listen, speaking of saying whatever’s on my brain… are you like a doctor or scientist or something? You write so detailed about those things. 

There was a tension in the air as Mycroft read that comment. He couldn’t say what he really did, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about lying. The user’s police curiosity and deduction was evident by the way they’d made connections between his content and comments. Mycroft would be otherwise impressed at the above-average intelligence, if he weren’t overwhelmed with panic regarding what to say next. He could say he was a doctor, since he did actually know a lot about medical procedures. But that could lead into problems later on… he wasn’t sure exactly what kind of problems, but anything to do with medical fraud was a big deal. 

_SuitedLizard:_ I have an interest in science in general, but I have a wide knowledge base. My job requires me to have a varied skill set.  
_PintofJustice:_ Well that’s an evasive comment if I ever heard one :P As you could probably tell, I’m a cop, and so I know when people are avoiding my questions.  
_PintofJustice_ : I was only joking, I don’t really need to know. It doesn’t matter.  
_SuitedLizard_ : I had gathered your occupation, yes. I’m not avoidant… I just am wondering what your expert opinion would be, based on my profile?

Mycroft nodded to himself, pleased with his continued avoidance of the question. This way, what appeared most likely as his occupation, he could just confirm it. A much simpler, and more realistic, method of determining what was the most likely job it appeared he had. Mycroft groaned, suddenly realising that he shouldn’t care about any of this. He really should stop interacting all together…

_PintofJustice:_ I would guess medical, since you know a lot about that. But I am not getting a ‘doctor’ vibe from you. So based on your avatar, I’m going to guess: veterinarian. 

Mycroft wanted to say that the user had correctly guessed his occupation, and pretend to be a vet, but he couldn’t bring himself to hit send. The whole point of communicating with other members in the ‘fandom’ was to be himself, something prohibited in his work and care of Sherlock. Mycroft swallowed hard.  
“I hope this doesn’t come back to haunt me.” He uttered quietly, and typed a reply. 

_SuitedLizard_ : Excellent deduction skills, however I must disappoint you. My medical knowledge is a result of interest and some early study. I believe I have earned a question for you. What is your age group?  
_PintofJustice:_ Damn, never mind. There’s only so much you can guess from a profile, eh? As for the age… well, that would depend on your groupings, wouldn’t it? I’m twenty-nine. Listen, if we’re going to share more personal information with each other, maybe we should chat privately?  
_SuitedLizard:_ Most agreeable.

Mycroft felt warm inside that this person was willing to talk with him beyond commenting on stories, and with an awareness or respect for privacy. He noticed a private message appeared in his dashboard. 

_PintofJustice:_ Hey, is this a good place to talk? Otherwise there’s always email.  
_SuitedLizard:_ This is suitable. I have noticed that other users have referred to you as ‘Pint’ in their comments. Is this acceptable for me to use?

Mycroft bit his lower lip as he waited. He’d never been so forward with another person (personally speaking). He was glad he had the option to shoot down the email suggestion, as he wouldn’t be able to keep emails hidden from his not-secret life. 

_PintofJustice:_ Pint is fine ^^ And what about you? Is Suits ok?  
_SuitedLizard:_ Yes. I have not been called it before, and so it is currently reserved for just you.  
_PintofJustice:_ Lucky me! Anyway, nice to meet you properly. I’ll apologise now for any time I might disappear, since I could be called back in to work at any time. I’ve just started out with Homicide, and so I’m liable to be called out for a case whenever some bastard feels like killing some other poor sod.  
_SuitedLizard:_ I understand, don’t worry. I also can be called at a moment’s notice to go into work.  
_PintofJustice:_ So what is it that you do, exactly then, if you don’t mind? You’ve peaked my curiosity.  
_SuitedLizard:_ Piqued. I work in politics. It’s all very boring, I’m basically just a personal assistant. But one must start at the bottom, correct?

They chatted away for another hour before Mycroft insisted that he needed to sleep. Conversation rarely went that well for him, and Mycroft was left to wonder if it was because he’d never had anything in common (well, commonly _liked_ , that is) or if this particular user was an exception to an unchanged rule that people didn’t like him.

~

“You seem chipper this morning, Mycroft. Have you found a boyfriend now?”   
Mycroft looked up from his computer and stared at his boss, Vivian, with an expression of mixed disgust and shock. His boss was always into gossip, and didn’t seem to understand what professional boundaries were. Other people might mistake her nosiness for friendliness, however Mycroft wasn’t fooled. He regretted not denying being gay soon after starting working there.  
“Forgive me for saying, but my personal life is not of consequence to my job.” Mycroft said bluntly, but respectfully. Vivian just laughed at him.   
“Oh, come on… I never hear and good gos from you. It’s like you don’t have a social life.”  
“Correct, I do not.” Mycroft answered, returning his attention to his computer. His boss didn’t seem to take the hint and leave.   
“You’re young, Mycroft. There’s more to life than work. You need to get out there and meet people. Have a good time with some mates, and maybe find someone to date. A man like you should be able to have his pick of blokes.”   
“I do not socialise.” Mycroft stated. It wasn’t really that he didn’t want to, it was more that he found himself unable to. He always reverted to his stoic, professionally detached self when he was around other people. It was the only way to keep a lid on his anxiety. Well… aside from when he talked with Pint. But Mycroft wasn’t about to bring that up.  
“Think about it. Being alone does nobody any good.” Vivian said, and turned to leave. Mycroft remained staring at his screen, suddenly unable to focus. He didn’t want to be alone at all. It was just that others never seemed to want to be in his company. 

Mycroft sighed. The pit of his stomach remained in knots since hearing his boss’s comment about ‘a man like him’. It caused an overwhelming stream of thoughts regarding his weight and appearance. He felt sick. He took a breath and decided to start a new story. Mycroft found himselfidentifying a lot with Rodney McKay… at least, the anxious, socially awkward genius with part. Rodney wasn’t the fittest of the team, but he somehow wasn’t embarrassed about it. Mycroft found it inspiring. His story focused on Rodney getting down about his appearance and fitness, and his boyfriend Carson supporting and caring for him. Even though it was all fictional, about characters from a television show, Mycroft found that he felt better as he wrote the kind words Carson spoke. He could almost imagine that it was someone telling those words to _him_ instead. 

Suddenly not caring about the possibility of him being caught, Mycroft logged into his dashboard and posted the new work. He immediately closed the browser, shocked at his carelessness, but he didn’t really regret it. There was a sliver of hope that someone, particularly Pint, would comment on his work. He didn’t expect them to understand the reasons behind his words, but with all the negative self-thoughts swimming around his mind, he felt desperate to reach out for any positive comment at all. 

~

Mycroft had refused to check to see if he’d gotten any comments or messages purely out of disgust with himself. He was annoyed that he actually sought the comfort (of sorts) from strangers, and particularly guilty for wanting Pint to notice.   
“I don’t know a thing about them!” Mycroft grumbled to himself, alone in his apartment. He was used to randomly vocalising his thoughts… there wasn’t anyone to care, after all, in his flat.  
“I don’t even know their gender. They don’t know mine. What possible reason would they have to care about a stranger’s wellbeing?” 

Being unable to take it any longer, Mycroft opened up his web browser to his dashboard. He did have three comments, and one was from Pint. And he had a personal message, also from Pint. Mycroft read the comments first, and all three were generalised enjoyment of his narrative.  
_As expected_. He tried to tell himself that it was good, and that he shouldn’t feel disappointed. They were already a lot nicer and more interactive than anyone else in his life. 

He then opened the personal message. It was longer than he expected. 

_PintofJustice:_ Hey, Suits. I just wanted to say that while I enjoyed your latest work, I couldn’t help but notice it was quite different to your other one and all of your usual comments. Usually, the things you post are rather objective and scientific… and don’t get me wrong, I love that, it’s different and a kind of logical that I enjoy… but your latest work is rather emotional and about something personal to the characters. Sorry, rambling… what I mean is that I wanted to see if you were alright? I know I’m just some guy on the internet, but I’m always happy to listen if you want to talk. 

Mycroft read the message twice before he breathed out heavily. He was both very appreciative that Pint noticed something different, and amazed that he (Mycroft concluded that ‘guy’ meant Pint was male) had offered to listen to whatever what bothering Mycroft. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. His first instinct was to try and work out what Pint was hoping to gain from him from the offer; however he couldn’t come up with anything substantial, as they were both essentially strangers communicating on the internet. A strange part of his brain suggested that this was just what kind people did when they were being friendly. Mycroft treated that thought skeptically. No one in his past had ever been kind to him without expecting something in return, and it had only gotten worse since joining the world of politics. But he knew _of_ this kind of behaviour… _friends._ Friends were supposed to care unconditionally like that.  
_Perhaps Pint considers me a friend? No, surely not… we barely know each other. But what other explanation is there? Still… who would want to be friends with someone like me?_

Mycroft continued to stare at the message, his fingers hovering over the keys hesitantly. What was he going to say? His gut told him to be honest and just pour out his thoughts and feelings, and see what happened. He was afraid of losing Pint as an acquaintance, but the potential to have someone he could turn to in times of need was overwhelming his fear. Again, the distance between Mycroft and the user on the internet gave him a sense of security. If worst came to worst, all that Pint could do was complain about his alias online. There was no connection to his real life. Mycroft began to type a response. 

_SuitedLizard_ : (draft) Hello Pint, thank you for your message. I am thankful that you noticed the difference. It has indeed been a difficult day for me. I am anxious regarding talking to you about it… I generally don’t talk to people. I am socially inadequate and have accepted that fact. I don’t interact with people in a manner other than professionally. I feel very awkward, and I am constantly aware of my shortcomings physically as well as socially. Today, my boss brought up these two facts. She didn’t even mean it negatively, merely commented that I needed to ‘get out more’ and that a ‘man like me’ shouldn’t have a problem... finding company. Still, it caused those issues to hover in my mind regardless of what I did, and I could feel myself descending into a dark place. I wrote to try and avoid this, and I admit I was hoping that you would read it so that it felt a bit like sharing…. 

Mycroft frowned as he read the message again. He couldn’t send it… Pint wouldn’t want to talk to him again if he came across as needy and emotionally unstable. It was better to keep some things to himself and not be totally alone sometimes. Mycroft selected his text and cut it, pasting it into a new document just in case. He then typed a new message and sent it. 

_SuitedLizard:_ Hello Pint, I am fine. Thank you. 

Self hatred over his fears overwhelmed Mycroft, and he decided that he’d had enough of the day. He curled up in bed, without having dinner, and pulled the covers up high. 


	3. Chapter 3

Greg Lestrade sighed as he read the message appear on his screen. Suits obviously was having trouble with something, likely weight issues, but was avoiding it. It was such an obvious dismissal that Greg was left to wonder if it was intentionally done to see how far he’d push back. As a police officer, he knew that retaliating directly never ended well; it was better to try a different approach. It seemed that such wisdom could be applied to this situation as well. 

_PintofJustice:_ Alright, Suits. I hope you had an alright day, mine was a bit frustrating. Some people just have no respect.

Nodding to himself, Greg waited for a response. There was enough triggering words in there to elicit a response from Suits. However, as time went on, Greg found himself staring at the same unanswered message. 

_PintofJustice:_ Suits? You there? I’m sorry if I annoyed you with my day. I just thought you’d feel like some causal conversation. We don’t have to talk about our days. 

Greg decided to leave the computer for a while and watch some telly. In his gut he felt like he wasn’t going to get a response out of Suits tonight, and he wondered at what point it had begun to matter that much to him. They hadn’t talked all that much, or for very long, but there was something about Suits that drew Greg in. He was different to other people, and didn’t seem to worry too much about fitting in with the other people of the fandom. Greg knew it had a bit to do with Suit’s social anxiety - it was there plain as day - but Greg appreciated that he was trying to communicate without compromising his own integrity. Greg had found it strange the first time he’d read Suit’s comments; so proper and precise, always using correct grammar, always a little detached. He shrugged to himself, thinking that it was that difference that drew him to the user in the first place. 

He took a swig of the beer in his hand, and continued to stare at the football match whilst lost in thought. Greg considered himself an outgoing person, even if he didn’t necessarily like a lot of the people he associated with. There was outgoing, and then there was obnoxious… like many of his friends. Some were downright rude. Greg felt that being kind to others was more important than most things… and spent his day trying to enforce that philosophy between others. He spent his nights, however, interacting kindly with people of the McBeck fandom. He felt that a lot of them were eager to communicate with people, but were all a bit shy to initiate conversation. And so that’s where he came in: initiating conversations, sharing thoughts and fics, commenting on artworks. Some people were busy, some people seemed to just tolerate him, but on the whole, most people liked it. And then there were people like Suits, who seemed to _need_ it. 

Greg decided that the match wasn’t interesting enough, and so returned to the computer upon completion of his beer. Suits hadn’t responded still, as expected. Greg didn’t like to think of it bumming him out as much as it did, but permitted himself to search for some more angsty fics to read. There were a few to choose from, but most were generally short. Another thing that Greg hand bonded with Suits over: longer fics. They both enjoyed reading the development of characters, the slow progression of storylines, and the more complex narratives. Shorter fics were great as well, Greg never denied that, but he found he often just got more ‘into’ the longer ones. Greg found one, 45 000 words long, and started it. The description seemed enticing, if not a little bit darker than he’d anticipated. Generally a 20 000 word story was his go-to length. It wasn’t _too_ long if he didn’t really enjoy it, but it still allowed for enough development. 

After three hours, Greg realise he should get some sleep. The story had been more interesting than he’d anticipated. It hadn’t received much likes in comparison to a lot of others, and so he’d expected it not to be that great. He almost rolled his eyes as his last thought of the day was if Suits might enjoy reading it. Greg decided to just sleep before he started questioning the exact nature of the attachment to Suits was. 

~

Greg checked his messages quickly before heading into work, just in case Suits had responded. He really would have preferred Suits to be on a chat program on his phone, then it’d be easy to see if he’d responded. Greg paused as he was putting on his coat, thinking that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to ask Suits to add him. But that was assuming Suits used telegram. If not, then he’d be asking Suits to download and make an account with a new app… and he wasn’t sure if Suits would be scared off by such a notion.  
“Perhaps I’ll hold off on that thought.” Greg muttered to himself as he finished putting on his coat. 

Work was tiresome as ever, and Greg found himself just wanting to keep reading the story from the previous night instead of the mountains of paperwork before him. The case from yesterday was being officially closed at the request of the government higher-ups, and Greg hated it. He was in the middle of an arrest when some bloke walks in, hands papers to Greg’s superior, and then the next thing he knows, Greg’s being told to drop it. But, since he’d already filed half the paperwork, he was having to do some clean-up to close the case up (albeit reluctantly). Greg wanted to direct his anger to the tall, slim, auburn-haired man, but one look told Greg that he was just the middle man to deliver the message. He was far to anxious and attempting to put on a mask of indifference to actually be the one giving the orders. He was, however, incredibly attractive…

“Don’t go there, Lestrade.” Greg muttered to himself. He’d had enough failed dates lately to know that pining after some bloke he’d never see again wasn’t a good idea. Greg chuckled when he thought particularly of the dates his co-workers had set up for him. Those poor women, all excited and then realising it was all for naught the moment a waiter in tight trousers walked by. Greg couldn’t help it if he preferred men more. A lot more. Nor could he help it if his coworkers saw him on a date with a woman early on and decided he was straight. Greg thought he should probably correct them, but it was an awkward conversation and he figured they’d find out eventually, especially if their friends were chatty. He, honestly, really just wanted to see how long it’d take them to set him up with a bloke instead. 

After another long day, Greg returned home. He instantly flopped onto his bed, and laid there for a few moments unmoving. He took in a deep breath, and then sat up. If he could be bothered to have a social life, he could go out to the pub. There’d surely be someone willing to go out for a drink. But he actually just wanted to stay in and keep reading, and hopefully chat with Suits again. Greg logged on to his dashboard, responded to the messages to a few of the other users, and dismayed at seeing the lack of response from Suits. 

_PintofJustice:_ Are you sure you’re alright? Usually you respond quicker than this…

Greg then figured he’d better make something for dinner, since his lunch was half of a miserable sandwich. He hadn’t been able to swallow the other half. Greg knew he should make something healthy, but he really just wanted fried chicken and chips. He put three chicken tenders in the oven, and bargained with himself that it was healthy enough if he chose to have salad instead of the chips. 

He sat at the table with his meal, slathered in spicy mayonnaise, and opened up the story to continue reading. Well, at least that was his intention, until he saw that Suits had responded. 

_SuitedLizard:_ Apologies. I have been quite preoccupied as of late.  
_PintofJustice:_ That’s ok, I was just a little worried. Bad day?

Greg typed with one hand and a mouthful of chicken. He noticed how Suits didn’t respond to his inquiry, but provided an explanation for his disappearance instead. Avoidance. He naturally noticed these kinds of things.

_SuitedLizard:_ Yes, I suppose you could classify it as such. I have been forced to deal with matters regarding my boss’ personal life. I do not believe that it is my responsibility, however my superiors are adamant that her husband not being involved in a criminal scandal of any sorts is imperative to her continued positive public image.  
_PintofJustice:_ You can say that again. I spent the day having to close up a case because of someone knowing someone in power. Seriously, does the law just apply to the common man? I went into this job thinking it didn’t matter who you are, you are accountable for your actions in the eyes of the law.  
_SuitedLizard:_ Unfortunately, those in positions of power have deemed it a necessary evil that those important to the country’s functioning be acquitted of associations of a criminal nature.  
_SuitedLizard:_ Which, of course, you did not hear about from me.  
_PintofJustice:_ Relax, Suits, I’m not about to go tell the Queen you think the government is covering up crimes.  
_SuitedLizard:_ I admit you would have trouble pinpointing my identity, should the Queen require proof of association.  
_PintofJustice_ : Careful, Suits, that’s almost a joke :P  
_SuitedLizard:_ Apologies.  
_PintofJustice:_ No, no! I mean, I was enjoying it and poking fun. I like your humorous side.  
_SuitedLizard:_ You are the only one to ever tell me I have one.  
_PintofJustice:_ I’m sure your friends think you’re funny.  
_SuitedLizard:_ I don’t know, do you think I’m funny?  
_PintofJustice:_ Yes… I thought a smart man like you would work that out!  
_SuitedLizard:_ Then yes, my friends do think I’m funny.

Greg squinted at the screen. Did he just imply…? 

_SuitedLizard:_ Forgive my presumptuous statement. I believe I overstepped a boundary. I did not mean to force ‘friendship’ status upon you. That is your choice should you make it.  
_PintofJustice:_ Suits… that wasn’t the part I was thinking about. Of course I consider you a friend, you daft genius. I was more wondering at your implication that I am your only friend?  
_SuitedLizard:_ Well, now that I have confirmation, that is correct, yes.  
_PintofJustice:_ But what about the people you talk with?  
_SuitedLizard:_ My work associations are not beneficial to me, and thus I do not deem them friendships.  
_PintofJustice:_ No, I mean when you get home.  
_SuitedLizard:_ I occasionally phone my brother. I worry about him. You are the only other person in my life with whom I ‘converse’. It is more than I have had in the past, and I am grateful.

His chicken long eaten (and the salad remaining on his plate forgotten), Greg stared at the screen. It was just so… _sad_ … to hear that Suits was essentially alone. All he had for company was a friend over the internet. And if Greg believed it, which he was inclined to, Suits hadn’t had anyone resembling a friend in his past either. A lot of Suits’ social awkwardness and anxieties were starting to make a lot of sense. 

_PintofJustice:_ What about in school? Surely you knew people then?  
_SuitedLizard:_ I knew people, yes, however I was only considered worth attention when I was immediately useful to them. I do not wish to come across as arrogant, Pint, however I cannot deny the fact that I am significantly more intelligent than my peers. In school, this was not an admirable trait. I did not have any other redeeming qualities either, and so I spent the majority of my time alone or used as a tool by those I feared being hurt by should I have refused.  
_SuitedLizard:_ My, I … I apologise… I had not intended to share so much personal information…  
_PintofJustice_ : Fuck Suits, I’m sorry. No, please share. I want to listen. I mean I know I called you a genius before because of that other time, but I guess that’s an actual label for you, eh? I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.  
_SuitedLizard:_ You… are concerned if you hurt my feelings through your word choice? Why?  
_PintofJustice:_ Duh… because I’m your friend and I don’t want to hurt you. Hell for a genius, you’re a bit of an idiot in some things. Again, I mean that lovingly. I know understanding people isn’t something everyone is good at and it takes practice. If you’ve not had the best experiences, then you’re probably worse off for it.  
_SuitedLizard:_ I appreciate your understanding. I wish many others in my life shared it.

Finally… Greg thought… Suits was opening up. All it took was a little conversation and a pull of an emotional thread. It wasn’t strictly ‘manipulation’, he told himself… it was working around some social problems to help a friend. 

_PintofJustice:_ And for the record, I’m sure you had plenty of wonderful qualities as a student. Those selfish bastards were just too up themselves to notice.  
_SuitedLizard:_ You enjoy some colourful language, Pint. I am afraid I must disappoint.  
_PintofJustice:_ Well, were you helpful back then?  
_SuitedLizard:_ I don’t believe I understand… but yes, I aided students with their learning.  
_PintofJustice:_ See? That’s already one good trait. You do that here in the fandom too. Were you creative like you are now?  
_SuitedLizard:_ I believe I possessed the same amount of creativity then, yes.  
_PintofJustice:_ Another trait. Your story has holes, Suits… I’m a cop, you didn’t think I’d find out? Cx  
_SuitedLizard:_ I was fat, Pint, and no amount of creativity or assistance giving ever seems to stop people noticing it. It seems that one’s weight is the only quality that matters in society.

Greg nodded to himself gently. He could hear the hurt in Suit’s words, and he wanted to just give the man a hug. He, personally, didn’t care about a person’s weight. However, he knew a lot of people that did. Greg would find himself snapping at colleagues for their mistreatment of people that were overweight, and he didn’t care if the person wasn’t around to hear it. By his reasoning, it shouldn’t be said in the first place… hell, it shouldn’t be an _issue_ in the first place; but to think it better to make fun of a person’s body behind their back as being better than doing it to their face… it made Greg wonder how often these people actually would do something as atrocious as insult someone about their weight directly to them. He could understand how Suits would have a hard time because of it. 

_PintofJustice:_ I know you won’t believe me, but I really don’t care. Hell, I like people a bit squishy or muscly. Skin and bones doesn’t really do it for me without a bit of curve or something. If you want some kind of reassurance that I’m not making it up… google what a body looks like after being pulled out of a ditch after a couple of days. Or don’t - it’s gross, just take my word for it. I don’t understand why society is like that but it fucking sucks. I’m sorry.  
_SuitedLizard:_ That is quite the mental image, Pint, and I am thus inclined to believe you. Thank you. I admit that it has taken a lot of work to achieve a passable ‘normal’ appearance, but the pain from the torment remains. Even bringing up the fact that I should be able to find someone to like me, purely because I currently ‘look good’. It disparages me that the only quality I posses for others to find endearing is an outward appearance that is difficult to maintain. If the only people that would take interest in me are ones for that reason, I believe it is perhaps better to be alone.  
_PintofJustice:_ Not that I disagree in any way, but I am curious as to why you think it’s better to be alone?  
_SuitedLizard:_ It is hard enough to attempt to maintain my appearance for my own demons, I do not wish to add the fear of rejection and abandonment to that. It would not bode well for my mental health, and thus I would not enjoy the companionship.  
_PintofJustice:_ That’s very true, and wise. But hey… you can enjoy my companionship? Since you know it doesn’t matter to me? :3  
_SuitedLizard:_ I already have enjoyed your company, Pint. More so now. Thank you.

Greg smiled to himself. He felt a sense of pride and achievement from getting Suits to open up. It sounded like he really needed it, and hadn’t had the opportunity to do so before. Hopefully seeing that there won’t be any negative consequences to doing so will help him continue sharing? Greg can only hope. He really liked bonding with Suits on a more personal level. He could tell, however, that Suits was tiring of the conversation, and so changed the topic to lighter things. He even suggested the story he was reading for Suits to check out. Greg was even tempted to bring up using telegram to chat with… but bit his metaphorical tongue and waited for a later time. 


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft was still in a state of shock over how much he’d shared. But, really, the most shocking part of it all was that he’d received kind words and support. He had thus feeling in his chest of wanting to share more, but he was still too afraid to initiate any deeper meaning conversation. He did, however, manage to talk to Pint about the story he'd recommended.

_SuitedLizard:_ "Broken" was an excellent recommendation, Pint. I have enjoyed it very much thus far. The emotional development is realistic.   
_PintofJustice:_ I'm glad you like it! I am about half way, and man you're right about the emotional stuff. I like how Carson is supportive though through it.   
_SuitedLizard:_ I also really enjoy reading Carson's care of Rodney. It makes me feel comforted about my own emotional issues.

Mycroft's throat closed up after he realised what he'd said. He wanted to remove the message, but it was too late. He couldn't delete messages, and Pint had already seen it. The fact that the message registered as being 'viewed' and there was no response made the panic in Mycroft's chest explode. Did Pint hate him for sharing that much? Was it too much to come out with? Was the implication that he wanted comfort for his own emotions sounding too selfish? Should he not have not mentioned having emotional issues? It seemed that Pint was ok with knowing that the last time they spoke, but what if that had changed? Mycroft stared at the screen, aware that he was getting lightheaded from being unable to breathe. 

_SuitedLizard:_ I am so sorry for saying that. I apologise. I did not mean to bring up any issues of my own.   
_SuitedLizard:_ I know that you wouldn't want to listen to me if I am going to bring these things up. It's ok.   
_PintofJustice_ : Jesus, Suits, relax and let me type a response!

Mycroft physically retracted from the computer at Pint's message. He wanted to apologise again, but thought that it would be a redundancy. It _sounded_ like Pint was writing something positive, albeit long. All Mycroft could do was sit in a subdued panic attack with his jaw clenched, awaiting the response. 

_PintofJustice:_ First of all, I like hearing about any emotional issues you have. It's what friends do. I get the feeling you associate with Rodney a lot, and so experience your emotions through him. That's a good thing, and it's good that you can try and find some comfort through reading about Rodney getting comforted. Secondly, you shouldn't apologise for saying anything about you own things. Again, that's what friends are for: sharing our issues, and helping each other through them.I know that you always feel like you're an inconvenience, but really you're not. If at any time you want to bring up emotional problems or really anything, you are welcome to. I would like to think the same can be said for me, since I have grown fond of our conversations. 

Mycroft released his breath. He wasn't really sure how to respond. He wanted to thank Pint for being so kind, but didn't want to keep self-depreciating himself since Pint didn't seem to like it when that happened and Mycroft didn't want to annoy him. He felt a smile break out across his face when reading that Pint had 'grown fond' of talking with him. He'd felt the same, but was always trying to convince himself that it was only a passing thing for Pint and he'd lose interest. That was also part of his fears: that by making the conversations about serious, heavy things, Pint would lose interest in talking with him and Mycroft would be left alone with the new-found knowledge of what it was like to have someone listen to him, and be without that. While Mycroft debated internally what to say, Pint sent another message. 

_PintofJustice:_ I know this might sound a bit forward, but I was hoping to ask if you wouldn't mind adding me on telegram? If you don't have it, it's a messaging program that can be used on computers and phones. It's just easier for me to keep in touch, that way. If you don't already have it, and don't want to get it, then that's fine of course... I just thought it might be nice to be able to talk off FanFicBook's system?

Well, that seemed to negate most of the doubts that Pint was just being polite to him. If the man was asking him to communicate _more_ , then he surely couldn't have been repulsed by what Mycroft had said... right? But this left Mycroft in a new predicament: did he accept the offer? The panic that had subsided flared up again. Taking the leap and creating an account with a new app just to talk to Pint more often meant his affections were undeniable. But not doing so could be a lost opportunity to have something he'd craved for a long time: company. Then again, it was a step closer into his real life, and Mycroft was worried about the fandom life and his real-world life blending together, even if he wasn't exactly sure why. 

Mycroft took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It really came down to one thing: did he want to be closer with Pint? The first answer was yes. Chatting with Pint had been the highlight of his days since, well, really the first time they conversed. Mycroft might actually make a true and honest friendship, one that permitted sharing of difficulties as well as pleasantries, and without expectation of favours granted. But he was afraid. He was scared that by getting closer, Pint would see things that he would regret, and want to leave. Mycroft knew he wasn't great company, and he didn't want his only friend in the world to come to that same conclusion and leave him in the dark once again. He couldn't help but hear the words 'it's better have loved and lost than to have never loved at all' ring though his head. Mycroft shook his head at the thought, dismissing the idea because he wasn't in 'love' with Pint. But he couldn't deny that the sentiment resounding from the saying was eerily applicable. 

Before he could change his mind, Mycroft agreed. 

_SuitedLizard:_ Thank you for your kind offer. I would very much like to communicate with you more often. I do not have 'telegram', however I will acquire it. Once I have done so, will you assist me in setting up the program so that I may have you as a contact?  
 _PintofJustice:_ Oh awesome! Let me know once you have an account. I'm Pint there, so you can have your name as Suits if you like?   
_SuitedLizard:_ Very good. 

Mycroft then downloaded ‘telegram’ promptly, before his anxieties froze him in indecision. He registered an account as 'Suits', and then Pint helped to set up their contact information. Within twenty minutes, they began their first conversations. 

_Pint:_ Glad you made it! I have it on my phone too, so that if things get slow during the day I can see if you've messaged.   
_Suits:_ I would not usually be able to message during the day, as my job is rather demanding. I had assumed that yours would be, as well.   
_Pint:_ Well of course, but sometimes during lunch I check it to see what people are up to. 

Mycroft's heart deflated. _People_. He wasn't sure why he'd thought that Pint had chosen to talk with only him... he guessed that he was still new to the idea of friendship, and that having more than one friend was the normal for most people. 

_Suits:_ Of course. Well, I don't know if I am able to use my phone during the day... I would assume so. However, I am left wondering... what would I say that would need to be said during the day?  
 _Pint_ : Oh, I don't know, lots of things. If you're having a shit day, then it's nice to know that you can vent about it and have someone there to listen.  
 _Suits:_ You... you would listen to such?  
 _Pint:_ Of course, silly. We all have shit days. We all need people to turn to.   
_Suits:_ And to clarify, you are offering to be that person for me?   
_Pint:_ Well, yes, obviously, Suits. Sorry... I know you have social anxieties, I shouldn't say things in that way. I would very much like to be that person there for you. And I hope that maybe I could do the same?  
 _Suits:_ Do you not have anyone else you can talk to? Do not misunderstand me, I am of course very willing to be a supportive person in your life, as I wish for our friendship to be of that description. I was merely curious as to if you had others, and worried that perhaps they would be better options for you?

Mycroft was concerned that he didn't want to hear the answer to his question, however he needed to know. He disliked having a friendship being one-sided, but he worried that Pint would not entrust unto him what Mycroft would ideally like to entrust Pint with. If Pint had others he'd rather talk with about those things, then Mycroft would feel to uncomfortable to do the same. It was all very new and extremely stressful, and Mycroft felt he was in the middle of a sporting match without knowing the rules and expected to win or die. Well, perhaps it was a bit of an exaggeration, but it certainly felt like that. 

_Pint_ : There's no one quite like you to talk to, Suits. My mates are... well, they're obnoxious idiots most of the time. I have some nice people from the McBeck fandom on there as well, and I would like to introduce you to them one day once you're ready, but they again aren't quite like you, Suits. You seem to understand things, know things, and it's comforting to talk with you. 

Mycroft was again struck not being able to respond. Pint thought of him...unique? He certainly was, however no one had ever used the term positively to describe him before. But what made his heart swell was that Pint wanted to talk to him personally, uniquely, and not as just another in a long list of friends. He was actually wanted for himself. 

_Suits:_ I don't have much to go by, but there's no one I know like you either, Pint. 

It was a simple enough statement, however the meaning was immense to Mycroft. Pint, his _friend_. The more they'd spoken, the closer Mycroft felt to the man... and he briefly was left wondering just how close he'd end up feeling to this anomaly in his life. 

~

Mycroft found that he didn’t even mind continuing to work with the police regarding Vivian’s husband, not since he was able to message Pint during his lunch breaks and complain about it. He wasn’t even sure _why_ he had to continue to liaise with the police, not once the incident had been covered up. But, apparently, the government still wanted (or, more likely, the police) some consequences to happen given the ‘accidental’ murder that Vivian’s husband committed. 

He’d complained to Pint that it was not his job to delegate with the police force, and that he felt rather out of his depth to do so (even if that last part wasn’t entirely true). Pint had said that the bloke that took his case away had been appearing more as well, and so Mycroft started to wonder… what if. Always ‘what if’. He’d asked if such a think was a usual occurrence, and Pint answering ‘apparently’ had eased Mycroft’s mind. If it was not unusual for politicians to work with the police, then it was again statistically highly unlikely that they had run into each other already in the real world. Mycroft wasn’t even sure where Pint worked. 

Thankfully, his boss hadn’t commented on his improved mood, or his frequent glances over to his phone whilst it rested upon his desk. Pint had been having a lighthearted conversation with him regarding Pint’s workmates, whom seemed to continuously attempt to set him up with women. Mycroft had suggested telling his friends the truth, but for some reason Pint seemed to enjoy the situation. Apparently, Pint found the visitor they’d had to the station lately very attractive, and was just waiting for someone on his team to notice his reactions. He’d then asked Mycroft if there was anyone that caught his eye… and Mycroft didn’t know what to say. 

The sergeant that had initially been working the case of Vivian’s husband had been strikingly handsome, but Mycroft had done his best to ignore the man for the sake of professionalism. He’d eventually said a simple ‘yes’, and was waiting to see if Pint asked further questions. 

His phone lit up, and so Mycroft inconspicuously picked it up. He was doing literally nothing, merely reading more of the fan fiction that Pint had recommended, and so didn’t feel guilty for looking at his phone for personal reasons during work. He’d even asked his boss for something to do… but had been dismissed. 

_Pint:_ Oooo… do tell.   
_Suits:_ I don’t know if I should…  
 _Pint:_ Awh, come on… it’s not like I’m going to know him.   
_Suits:_ Fine, it’s just someone I’ve encountered occasionally for work.   
_Pint:_ You should ask him out.   
_Suits:_ Dear god, no. Someone like that would only be interested in attractive men, not someone like me.   
_Pint:_ What have I said about putting yourself down?  
 _Suits:_ Not to. And I have told you that I can’t change a lifetime of habits so quickly.   
_Pint:_ Agreed, but you need to start. And part of that is me telling you off for it every time :P  
 _Suits:_ If you must. But that does not change the fact that I would not be able to ask him out.   
_Pint:_ Yeah, I understand that’d be hard. If only I could be there to help you! I’m sure you’re great in person. I mean I like you in chat, so I’m sure there’s others that live near you that would as well. You just need to be able to open up so they can see how wonderful you are.   
_Suits:_ Thank you… I … I must go. 

Mycroft quickly put the phone down on the desk and looked at it with a stern glare. He’d felt a rush of emotion, of extreme fondness for Pint, once hearing him call him ‘wonderful’. It was unsettling. Not because he thought that Pint was lying to him, but because he’d not felt that about anyone in a long time. There had been one time, in school, he’d had a crush on a boy and felt giddy when the boy had looked at him and smiled. The feeling was the same… and it worried Mycroft for the simple reason that he still barely knew Pint. He didn’t even know the man’s real name. It was not … _acceptable_ … to have those feelings about someone one spoke to only through text. And yet… he had the inexplicable desire for Pint to feel the same. 

“This will not end well.” Mycroft groaned to himself, regretting having permitted himself a social life. He couldn’t handle being alone again without some considerable difficulty, and he most certainly couldn’t handle falling for someone he chatted to online. Not because he didn’t think that Pint would be a good candidate for them to ‘hit it off’ as it were, as they already seemed to get along quite well… but because Pint would see him as he was, and then reject him. Mycroft hated that he already felt so attached that the thought of Pint rejecting him stabbed him in the gut. 

His phone lit up twice more, but Mycroft left it where it was. He focused instead on continuing to write his story. He knew that the plot was changing because of his current emotions, but he didn’t care. Rodney could question Carson’s affections because of feeling inadequate if Mycroft wanted him to. Hell, Rodney could hide himself away in self hatred and fear of rejection should Mycroft choose. That was the good thing about it… Mycroft had some control over the entire world in his stories. He didn’t have control over his own heart, it seemed, or over Pint. And it was terrifying him. 


	5. Chapter 5

Greg sat at the table, looking across to his date, in the busy restaurant. His colleagues had set him up again, and Greg had tried to decline initially. They were rather insistent, however, and so Greg found himself out suddenly with a woman having dinner. He really just wanted to go home and keep reading ‘Broken’, since it was more interesting than the date had been so far. The moment Greg had walked in, she’d acted like she’d lost interest in being there. Greg supposed it was just as well, as he didn’t really have much interest either. 

“So, what do you do?” He asked, sipping some wine.   
“I’m an artist.” The woman, Kimberly, answered. She gave him a forced smile, but then looked back at her menu. There was an awkward silence when Greg expected an question in return.   
“Do you enjoy it?” Greg asked, aware of how painfully forced the conversation was.   
“Yes.” Kimberly answered simply. 

Greg took his phone out of his pocket, and looked to see if Suits had sent him a message. There hadn’t been one since lunchtime, and while Greg didn’t expect one, he left the phone on the table just in case. Kimberly didn’t seem to notice.   
“I’m really into reading, these days.” Greg stated, hoping to find some kind of common ground.   
“Mhm.” Kimberly grumbled.   
“I mostly read fan fiction.” Greg said, a grin on his face. He was used to people assuming ‘fan fiction’ was some form of lesser writing than published works. Those people just obviously hadn’t read much fan fiction.   
“I wouldn’t have thought that would be all that popular.” Kimberly commented. Greg honestly had expected her to either roll her eyes at him and give him the chance to try and change her mind, or curiously ask what fandom he was interested in.   
“A lot of people are interested in it, actually. It’s the Stargate Atlantis fandom, and I mostly read about the McBeck ship.” Greg explained. Kimberly nodded, but didn’t seem to have any interest in listening to him whatsoever. Greg decided that he’d just keep talking until she left or told him to shut it, since she wasn’t going to offer anything to discuss. 

“I’ve met a few really nice people through it, actually. This one guy, Suits… that’s what I call him, since his username is SuitedLizard… he’s wonderful. We’ve recently just started chatting off the website.”  
“That’s nice.” Kimberly said, disinterested, looking over to the bar. Greg saw that his phone lit up with a message from Suits.   
“Ah! That’s him now. We’ve been talking about our days, or just anything really. It’s funny, since at first he seems so distant to everyone but really he just doesn’t have much idea how to interact with people. It’s a shame, because he’s so smart and we could talk for hours about so many different things and he always seems to know something about it.” Greg said, smiling while he checked the message. He chuckled.   
“He’s just telling me how he had to go into the police station again today wherever it is he works… there’s been this… thing… anyway, I think he’s got a bit of a crush on one of the officers there. I keep telling him, that cops are trained to notice things and eventually this bloke’ll work it out. Well, maybe… they might not, if they’re like my colleagues. Anyway, Suits has been trying to hide away from this sergeant in case of being noticed. He’s so socially anxious, it’s adorable. I love that I’ve been able to get him to come out of his shell, because he’s really just wonderful company…” Greg rambled, smiling fondly with his phone in his hand.   
“Sounds like you should be out with him, instead.” Kimberly commented from behind her menu. 

There was a brief pause as Kimberly’s eyes looked at him, as if expecting him to shoot down the idea or proclaim it’d be impossible because he wasn’t gay. Greg just laughed.   
“I have no idea where he is! He could be in Australia for all I know. I mean, I doubt it, since his timezone seems to be the same as mine… but still.” Greg chuckled, drinking more wine. Kimberly raised her eyebrow at him.   
“What?” He asked.   
“The only reason you aren’t dating this guy is because you don’t know here he lives?” Kimberly asked, a little accusingly. Greg cleared his throat and looked at the table.   
“He wouldn’t want to date me.” Greg stated, his cheeks flushing.   
“Oh, you do really like him, don’t you? Why wouldn’t he want to date you? You’re handsome.” Kimberly said, giving him the first genuine smile of the evening.   
“Well… he’s just so… smart, and socially awkward… he’d probably think me below him intellectually and so not worth the sheer panic of attempting to go on a date with.” Greg mumbled, uncomfortably shifting his cutlery.   
“But you’ve gotten him to chat with you already? How would doing so in person be different?”  
“I … I don’t really know. It probably would for him, since he’d have less control or something? As someone who doesn’t really have a problem with it, it’s hard to guess. I just… it makes me happy to see him so clearly happy to share his day with someone. He’s not had a lot of friends, any at all really. Once he’s gotten comfortable sharing things, he really is just… amazing, I guess.” Greg said, smiling and sinking a little into himself. Kimberly kept smiling at him.   
“I think you should ask him out. You obviously are besotted with him.”   
“I…” Greg started to argue, but then realised that she was absolutely right. “But I … I still don’t know where he is.”  
“Meh,” Kimberly shrugged, “Long distance works these days. As long as you both are committed to staying together until you can physically be together, I don’t see a problem.”   
“I guess you’re right. But… I don’t understand why you’re so ok with this. We’re supposed to be on a date.” Greg said, self-consciously rubbing at his arm.   
“Please, this isn’t a date. This is my friend trying to get me to be ‘not be alone’ with one of their friends.”  
“Oh.” Greg stated. He didn’t feel dejected, more… relieved, to be honest, that this woman didn’t expect anything from him despite the original premise to be a date.   
“No, I didn’t mean that in a bad way… I guess I can be open about it now. I’m already actually seeing someone, a woman, and I haven’t told anyone about it yet. I’m not really sure how to bring it up… and I guess you’re in the same boat. I’m sorry I was a bit of a cold bitch at the start of the evening… I was kind of hoping that you’d not like me for it so nothing would happen.”

They both started laughing. Suddenly the tension since the start of the evening died out, and they were left actually enjoying the company… once they understood each other. The waiter came and took their orders, and they returned to conversing.   
“I’m happy for you. And yeah I get it’s hard to bring it up with people.” Greg said.   
“Thanks. It’s been about nine months now.”  
“Congrats. Still, that must be hard, keeping it from your friends.”   
“It is, but I’m worried about telling them. I mean I don’t think they’ll take it _badly_ I guess, it’s the twenty-first century after all, I just worry that they’ll be offended I haven’t told them in so long?”  
“I’m about the same. I’m bisexual I guess, even if I mostly go for blokes… but when I started at the Yard, I went on a date with a woman. They all saw it, and then decided I was straight and have been setting me up with women since. I honestly expected at least _one_ of their friends to tell them why it never worked out, so I never said anything. But then time went on and nothing was said or believed; it’s been so long now that it’s just really awkward to say ‘hey so I’m actually mostly gay, please stop setting me up with women’. It’s now just funny to wait and see how long it takes for them to work it out and set me up with a man. Hell, I thought at least someone would notice me ogling the visitor to the Yard over the past week, he’s downright gorgeous.” 

They chatted a bit more about the awful blind dates both Kimberly and Greg had been set up on by Sally, Greg’s work colleague. They ate their meals with Greg talking about fan fiction, and about Suits. Kimberly asked a little about the ‘visitor’ Greg had mentioned. Greg admitted that while the man had been attractive, he’s already emotionally bonded with Suits and so would prefer to pursue that. Kimberly decided Greg definitely needed to say something about his affections to Suits, since the poor bloke probably had no idea. Greg agreed; most of the time Suits had trouble believing people wanted to talk to him, and so believing someone _liked_ him would be another thing entirely. 

Greg typed a response to Suits’ message from earlier, and coincidentally Kimberly received a text from her partner.   
“Oh, Beth is asking how it’s going and if she needs to come ‘save me’. Usually I’ve scared the guy off by now. Mind if I give her a ring?”  
“Go for it.” Greg said with a grin, typing away to Suits.   
“Hey babe! No no, I’m fine, yeah… no, honey bun, I’m not cheating on you. Ha! Yeah, no the guy’s actually gay. I know right? What are the chances. Sal’s got a bit of a shock headed her way soon, I guess. Oh that’s a good idea! I’ll tell him. Yeah, I’ll see you soon ok? Love you.” Kimberly spoke on the phone. Greg looked up at the mention of him.   
“Beth said we should both go and tell Sally together, safety in numbers and all.”   
“Yeah, I suppose…”  
“Greg, if you want to date Suits, then you’re going to have to call it quits on the ‘let’s see how thick my colleagues are’ game. They lost, move on and be happy.” Kimberly said with a chuckle. Greg nodded.   
“You’re right. You’re right. And I think Suits lives in London… I just asked him what he was doing, and he said that he was getting a takeaway since he didn’t have anything in. I said he’d be best getting it delivered, since people on the tube can get snarky at people bringing pungent smells with them… and he said he never takes the tube.”  
“Trust you, the detective, to be able to get information out of a socially anxious introvert. Clever, though… I don’t think this guy’ll have a problem with your intelligence.” Kimberly smiled at him. 

Greg suddenly swallowed and felt his hands sweat up. Suits was in London? It was now a very real possibility that they _could_ meet, and that they _could_ go on a date. Greg wasn’t used to having his online social world combine with his real life, and he felt a little uneasy.   
“You alright? You’ve gone a bit… stiff.”   
“Shit, if he lives here… then I could actually meet him, couldn’t I?”   
“Yes, that’s what we’ve been talking about all evening…”   
“But… it’s a bit overwhelming, that’s all. I hadn’t expected it. Hell, I hadn’t expected to like someone from the fandom that way.”  
“Sometimes things just happen. I met Beth online too, you know. It’s nothing to be ashamed of… we spend so much of our lives online these days, it’s the best way to meet people with similar interests beyond sport or alcohol. And I’m sure our meeting story is more embarrassing than you meeting through fan fiction.”  
“Oh?” Greg asked, a little slyly.   
“Hehe. Alright but don’t tell anyone. We met through a forum talking about organising a lesbian’s horse riding excursion.”   
“That’s not that embarrassing.”  
“Yeah well it was talking about where the best place was for a _nude_ horse riding excursion.”   
Greg grinned and looked down at the table.   
“I’d have thought that be a bit uncomfortable… horse hair chafing has got to hurt.”

Kimberly burst out laughing.   
“Greg, I think I like you.”   
“Thanks,” Greg chuckled in response, “So is nude horse riding a hobby of yours?”  
“No, I’m just a nudist. It was a nudist forum.”   
“Well, I’m really glad you found someone to be nude with.” Greg chuckled, and Kimberly made to swat him.   
“Now, we need to work out how to get you and your man to meet! But, I really should go… Beth’s probably waiting for me at home. So how about I give you my number and we’ll catch up again soon? Hell you can come visit my place if you like, it might be nice to have company…we don’t entertain much.”  
“Yeah, I can understand why… don’t want judgement or stares.”  
“Mhm, you’d be surprised how many people think it’s a sexual thing to just not want to wear clothes. People who don’t want to wear shoes or hats are normal… ergh. But I know you won’t try anything. If so, you’ll have to arrest yourself. Feel free to tell your man about me when you talk.” Kimberly laughed as she punched her number into Greg’s phone.  
“Thanks.”  
“Eventually you could both come around for a double date.”  
“I think Suits might have a heart attack from the panic of being in a room with two strange naked lesbians while on a date with his now-in-real-life boyfriend.” Greg laughed, shaking his head at the thought.   
“Well, Beth’s a nurse, so I’ll tell her to bring an AED home.” Kimberly chuckled. 

They left the restaurant, and Greg made his way home thinking it funny that the best set up he’d been on thus far was with a taken, nudist lesbian. Life was funny sometimes. Kimberly had been right though: Greg really was ‘besotted’ with Suits, and was going to need to be the one to push the idea. 

~

Greg tapped nervously on the table whilst facing the computer. He had no idea how to broach the subject with Suits without scaring the man off. At least if he was hitting on the visitor to the Yard, he could judge the man’s reactions to his advances… and then have it not matter when he was dismissed. But he wanted to keep Suits in his life, and so any awkwardness that might be caused by Greg’s admission of interest would remain through a friendship… should that even remain. Greg sighed. Why was dating so hard?

_Suits:_ How far have you managed to get in ‘Broken’? I have just finished it.   
_Pint:_ Oh, I haven’t had a chance to read it. Been a bit busy. I’m about… three quarters the way through?  
 _Suits:_ Very good. Please tell me when you are done, I would very much like to talk about it with you.   
_Pint:_ Big ending?  
 _Suits:_ I spoil nothing. 

Greg laughed. He just wanted to hug him. He’d wanted to reach through his screen and just hold Suits so many times… and now the thought of potentially being able to actually do it was a bit scary. Maybe he should offer to meet first, and then ask him out afterwards? Or would that be too much? Would it be better for Suits to be able to process the news while they were still just words on a screen before having to take the step of actually meeting? 

With a sigh, Greg flopped onto his bed. He didn’t want to do anything to make Suits uncomfortable, but without really understanding the social anxiety, he didn’t know what to do about it. He bid Suits goodnight, and turned in early. He had a meeting in the morning and he was emotionally exhausted. 

~

The meeting was arduous. Greg spent most of the time trying hard to not look bored and annoyed. He hadn’t thought that it would be a particularly thrilling experience, but when he saw the well-dressed visitor walk past him and into the briefing room, Greg had hoped that perhaps it would be better than anticipated. Turns out, the man was blatantly ignoring him - still. Not just as in ‘you’re not worth my time’ as many upper-levels did, but as if Greg had done something to personally offend him. It was seriously peeving Greg off… every time he caught the man looking at him, he’d look away and put on a frown. 

Greg still didn’t know his name, as he was always just referred to as ‘the liaison’ by his boss. He guessed that the government didn’t want to take any chances. He did huff quite loudly when said ‘liaison’ talked to Greg’s team, but refused to acknowledge Greg’s very presence. Once his boss had called the meeting quits, the standing result was that the ‘liaison’ would return occasionally to ensure police cooperation as Mr Sandos served his sentence in secret (for a crime that no longer officially existed), the team began to file out of the room. Greg remained behind, his eyes fixed squarely on the ‘liaison’ as he tantalisingly bent over to retrieve his umbrella. Greg stood stiffly with a stern expression as the man turned to leave, and Greg noted a flicker of shock to find himself alone in the room aside from one ticked-off policeman.   
“What’s your problem?” Greg snapped.   
“Excuse me?” The man replied, and Greg squinted at the brief falter of the man’s voice.   
“You’ve been bloody ignoring me since you first laid eyes on me. What have I done to offend you so much that you scowl every time I catch you looking at me? I’m a part of this, and whether you like it or not, you have to include me in a _professional_ manner.”   
“I… apologise, Sergeant. I had not been aware you noticed.”  
“I’m a cop, of course I can bloody take notice of things. So are you going to tell me what it is I’ve supposed to have done to piss you off so much?” Greg grumbled, aware that he strictly shouldn’t be using such language, but he was having a difficult time shoving thoughts of wanting to snog the man senseless away… and so forgave himself a little slip of control.   
“I assure you, it is nothing you have done. I … am unable to explain to you my behaviour, however please believe me that the onus is upon me. I am sorry.” The man said, his blue eyes flickering to the ground. Greg caught those eyes scanning his body over, and was left wondering if perhaps the reason he’d been looking at Greg and instantly turning away was that he _liked_ what he saw. 

There was tension in the room while the taller man continued to not-so-subtly avert his gaze, and Greg stood there thinking.   
“At least you may be comforted in knowing you shall not encounter me again for some time.” The man spoke, and straightened his posture.   
“I… I don’t know about that.” Greg said, tilting his head and doing his best to observe the man before him. Said man raised an eyebrow at Greg’s statement, and was about to ask something… but was cut off before he’d managed to make any sound come out of his open mouth.   
“Oi! Lestrade! This isn’t break time, we gotta get back to work.” Sally Donovan called from the doorway.   
“Yeah, coming Donovan.” Greg answered, and sighed. He nodded at the man before him, before turning and walking away. 

It wasn’t until Greg was back at his desk that the man left the briefing room, and Greg let himself watch as the lithe form walked out to the lift. He sighed. Why did he have to be so attractive? Sure, he was a bit skinny for Greg’s taste, but there was something about his auburn hair, blue eyes, and three piece suits that drew Greg in… and seeing the hint of timidness had made Greg want to grab him and…  
“Greg? What on Earth are you thinking about?”   
“Huh?” Greg shook himself out of his thoughts, finding Sally staring at him.   
“Oooohhh… had a good night last night then, eh?” Sally cooed, suggestively flickering her eyebrow. Greg cleared his throat and sat upright, trying to suppress the blush that had broken out at being caught thinking less-than-suitable for work thoughts.   
“Yeah, I actually had a good time with Kimberly. She’s nice.” Greg said, rubbing the back of his neck. Was he supposed to bring it up now?  
“That’s good. She doesn’t get out much, seems to just work and spend time in her flat. I’m glad you two got along.”   
“Yeah, we did… good conversation.” Greg smiled.   
“Yeah, ‘conversation’, right.” Sally commented, laden with innuendo.   
“Just conversation, Sal.” Greg pointed out, but had a feeling that she wouldn’t believe him. 

Sally dropped the subject and returned to her computer. Greg was thankful that he didn’t have to delve further into last night’s events. He sighed at himself; it was ridiculous that he wanted to shag the personal assistant that visited the Yard, and wanted to date his friend from the McBeck fandom. He wasn’t really used to being all that into anyone, and now he felt torn at liking _two_ men (albeit differently). What was happening to him? He resisted the urge to plant his forehead on his desk.


	6. Chapter 6

Mycroft hadn’t slept well. He’d not been able to stop thinking about his confrontation with the handsome police officer, and the fact that in his anguish, he’d all but admitted to Pint were he lived. Mycroft tried to tell himself that Pint wouldn’t put it together, and not notice that ‘the tube’ meant that yes, Mycroft was in London. People tended not to be that observant. But then there was Pint, the man that had noticed something was up when he’d posted a fic about weight issues. The man that had offered an ear when Mycroft had been having a rough day at work, because he was only giving short answers. The man that had worked out Mycroft’s attraction to the police officer from a few casual conversations. 

Work was boring as ever, but he actually had things to do and so couldn’t distract himself with fan fiction. His mind chose to use this time to stew over all of his failings and worries; reasons why the policeman had been offended at the thought of Mycroft’s attraction or even attention, how Pint might try and use the information about his location (admittedly, these scenarios were rather far-fetched), and all of the things about himself that Mycroft hated. Mycroft found the worst part about it all was that he couldn’t share it with Pint. 

Since acquiring his friend, he’d found himself unable to be _without_ that constant contact. There was a noticeable void if he wasn’t able to reach out and talk with Pint. Part of his mind felt unsettled at how dependent he’d become on another human being, trying to convince himself that it was going to end badly when Pint decided he’d had enough of him. Another part of his mind wanted more, wanted to be closer. That part was the one which brought the warm feeling in his chest at the idea of being able to reach out and hug him, to be able to see the expressions on his face, to be able to give him little surprises just to make him happy. He was anxious to label this feeling as ‘love’, because … he’d never met Pint, had he? How could he possibly love someone he’d never seen? And yet… this person he saw through his screen knew more about him than anyone else in his life, and more importantly, seemed to care about him more than anyone else as well. 

Mycroft sent Pint a message at lunch, hoping to have some kind conversation and even be able to talk a little about the confrontation yesterday. 

_Suits:_ Hey, Pint. How was is your lunch going?

Mycroft waited for the reply, and felt increasingly disparaged at the lack of response as time wore on. He barely touched his chicken and quinoa salad, mulling things over in his head. He jumped when the screen to his phone illuminated, indicating Pint had responded. 

_Pint:_ Hey, sorry Suits. I’m just out to lunch with Kimberly.   
_Suits:_ Is that not the woman you had dinner with yesterday? I had gotten the impression you preferred men. 

Mycroft didn’t know why the thought of Pint dating a woman, or anyone, stabbed him as much as it did. Pint hadn’t made an indication that he was interested in Mycroft at all, and Mycroft tried to tell himself it was ridiculous to hope for such a thing. He was just a person that chatted with Pint online… there’d be no way for anyone to return his feelings, let alone someone as lovely as Pint and over the internet none the less. 

_Pint:_ Yep. Don’t worry, Suits, we’re not dating and I do much prefer men. Funny story… she came by to pick me up at the station, and Sally (the woman who set us up) told us she was glad we were dating. Kim and I looked at each other, smiled, and said to Sally at the same time: “What? No, I’m gay.” You should have seen her face! But yeah, Kim’s helping me to work out a problem of sorts. 

Relief flooded through Mycroft’s body and he released the breath he’d been holding. Hope crawled back into his chest that maybe Pint could be his after all, but Mycroft beat the feeling back down as hard as he could. No one would want him, no one had ever wanted him or shown any interest. In fact, he’d been snapped at just yesterday by someone offended to think that he might find them attractive. _Of course_ it was ridiculous to think. Mycroft couldn’t stop feeling a sad, wistful longing that Pint might care for him in that way. 

_Suits:_ May I offer any assistance?  
_Pint:_ Maybe, I dunno. We’ll see. I’ve gotta go, sorry Suits. Talk tonight. 

Mycroft stashed his phone away and decided he’d had enough of trying to swallow his lunch. He sighed to himself, not understanding why being ‘unlovable’ was suddenly so painful for him, and returned to his desk. 

It was just as Mycroft was leaving his office that Pint messaged him again. He wanted to ignore it until he arrived home, but he didn’t have the self control. 

_Pint:_ Hey, sorry about earlier. Did you have a good lunch?  
_Suits:_ I am just headed home, I will be able to chat in 20 minutes. 

Mycroft put the phone away, hoping that Pint didn’t take notice of his avoidance again. He really needed to work out a way to keep having a normal conversation with Pint; without the overwhelming desire to just be able to sit and listen to him speak, hear it with his ears, see the expression on his face as he spoke, be able to hug him close and feel his body against his own as they cuddled together, just being in each other’s presence without the need for conversation. Mycroft growled at himself. 

“No one wants that with you, idiot.” Mycroft spoke sternly to himself. He’d not been too bothered by it before, but now he’d found someone he really _wanted_ to do those things with, he found it difficult to accept that fact. He was too afraid to let himself feel the desire for closer touching, one that lovers might share… it was personal, intimate, and both highly valued and terrifying for Mycroft. That kind of rejection would surely spear him through the chest, and he didn’t want to experience that. 

_Suits:_ Hello. I hope you have solved your problem.  
 _Pint:_ Yeah, I have actually. Kim helped a lot… she was direct and said that I should just be honest.   
_Suits:_ Honesty is usually the best, but far from the easiest, of options.   
_Pint:_ I know. But I have to put myself out there if I want the result. I can’t expect to get things I don’t work for, eh?  
 _Suits:_ An admirable attitude towards life, Pint.   
_Pint_ : Hah, yeah I suppose. But it’s difficult, you know? Usually I don’t … do the feelings side of things first.   
_Suits:_ I’m not sure I understand your predicament, however I do certainly understand difficulties with emotions.   
_Pint:_ Yeah, I guess that’s part of why I guess this is both easy and hard? Because you understand me, and have emotional difficulties yourself so you can understand what it’s like.   
_Suits:_ Forgive me, but what is “this” of which you refer?

Mycroft looked at his phone with a frown. It was sounding like he was causing Pint troubles of some kind. Anxiety took over and his mind started to list all the means as to how he’d be causing issues for Pint. He wanted to instantly apologise for it, whatever it was, and beg for Pint not to say goodbye. He couldn’t handle losing is only friend. He had decided that he would never try even imply he wanted things beyond friendship in fear of losing everything, and yet he’d said nothing and Pint was about to leave. 

_Pint:_ Ok, this is hard for me to say. I like you, Suits. Like… in that way.

Everything froze. Mycroft looked at the words on the screen, but nothing really registered in his mind. What… what was happening? Was this a joke? Was he trying to get Mycroft to run away so that he didn’t have to be the one to leave? He found his brain had stalled, and he was left just staring at the phone and waiting as Pint continued to type. 

_Pint:_ I can’t explain it, I mean I know I’ve never met you. But I just feel warm when I talk to you, and I want to know about you and your day … and I haven’t had that in a while. I don’t know if you would be able to feel the same, but I wanted to tell you in case there was a chance of us maybe getting to be closer? 

Mycroft’s body started shaking. His mind still couldn’t quite comprehend what was being said to him… everything told him that it couldn’t be possible. It just wasn’t possible for the man he liked to like him back, and even mention it out of the blue first. Things like that just didn’t happen to him. 

_Pint:_ Suits? Are you ok? You haven’t said anything and I know you have a bit of issue with emotions and people… please talk to me.   
_Suits:_ I don’t understand. You… you mean you want to be closer friends? Like, best friends?  
 _Pint:_ I’d like to be closer like, boyfriends… but I don’t want to scare you away, and if you don’t want that then I won’t say anything more about it. I don’t want to lose you as a friend because I gave this a shot. 

Ok… breathe. Pint had clarified, leaving no doubts in Mycroft’s mind as to his intention. He was immensely grateful for being told that Pint wanted to still be friends even if being ‘boyfriends’ wasn’t an option. But what could he say?

_Suits:_ (draft) I would love to try…. [deleted]  
 _Suits:_ (draft) I … I can’t believe you want that too, I have wanted… [deleted]  
 _Suits:_ (draft) I have found myself feeling that same desire, but was too afraid… [deleted]  
 _Pint:_ Suits? Please talk to me…   
_Suits:_ (draft) I don’t know how to do that, I have no experience, but I would very much like to try… [deleted]

Mycroft moaned in panic and frustration and walked directly to his bed and laid down in a ball, his phone in hand. He took a few deep breaths to keep the panic at bay, and thought hard about what to say. He couldn’t admit to wanting it too. That would only leave him vulnerable to pain. Pint no doubt is just either playing around or curious. Either way, it would end badly… for Mycroft, at least. Mycroft wasn’t sure he could handle the devastation. 

_Suits:_ You would not want me, Pint.   
_Pint:_ Oh, thank god, I was getting worried about you. Of course I would, that’s why I asked.   
_Suits:_ I am not loveable, or even likeable.   
_Pint:_ I disagree on both counts.   
_Suits:_ I’m serious, Pint. No one has ever shown interest in me, aside from once as a joke at my expense.   
_Pint:_ I’m sorry that happened to you, Suits. But you are a lovely, insightful man and I would honestly like to get to know you more.   
_Suits:_ You would not like what you find, I am … I scare people away.   
_Pint:_ You’re not hearing me, Suits. I DO like you already. I like you so much that I would very much to be able to like you more.   
_Suits:_ And then what? The moment you saw me in person you’d regret it. I can’t handle that kind of pain.   
_Pint:_ I thought we’d talked about this? You know I don’t care about your looks. Sure I found that guy from work hot, but I prefer an emotional connection. Bodies are just bodies, they change over time anyway. But it’s what’s inside that I really bond with. And that’s what I have with you. 

Something inside Mycroft snapped. Pint was being insistent, but not understanding the reality of the situation as it was for Mycroft. The anger and hurt bubbled up inside him, and before he knew it, he’d written a long response. 

_Suits:_ The attractive cop you deduced I liked yelled at me yesterday because he caught me staring at him. He was offended by the very idea someone like me could like him… I tried to be distant to save myself from the pain of rejection, but even my stolen glances landed me hurt. So I do know that once you see me, you will change your mind. As much as I want the same from you… I cannot bear to lose you as a friend, you’re all I have. I can’t … I can’t be alone again. I’m sorry I’ve come to depend on you so much. I’ve been told enough that I was unloveable, and so I know that if I follow what I want and try a relationship with you, you’ll leave me… and I’ll break because you’ve become the only person I care about. I never expected to fall in love, let alone with someone I’d never met, but I’ve always known that no one could love me. I’m unattractive, and my personality is not much better. I’m sorry. You would be better finding someone you could be happy with… and hopefully, you’ll still talk to me then too. 

There was no response. Mycroft wanted to take the words back, he wanted to be dismissive instead and hope Pint would just drop the subject and things could go back to the way they were… but he knew that now Pint had read that message, they couldn’t be the same again. He anxiously stared at the screen. He’d just confessed to loving Pint. In spite of knowing how awful the rejection would be, he’d confessed _love_ to this man. What on Earth was he thinking? He didn’t want to lose his one and only friend, because they wouldn’t be able to love him, and he goes and says that to scare him off once and for all? 

Mycroft tossed his phone on the beside table and hugged himself, crying. Of course there wasn’t going to be a response to that. He’d just ruined the thing he’d held most valuable. 


	7. Chapter 7

Greg gaped at his phone in awe. No… it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. It just couldn’t be possible. The visitor to the station was _Suits_? The man he’d been lusting after was _the same man_ he’d fallen in love with online? Greg replayed all the information his brain carried about his encounters with the visitor, and compared it to what Suits had said regarding his day and activities. 

“Holy fuck, it matches up. Shit… shit shit shit, oh god, what even…?” Greg mumbled to himself. He wanted to type a reply to Suits, to rebuke all of the - frankly, bullshit - that Suits had said about himself, but was having too much of an internal crisis. In all likelihood, Suits had hidden himself away after an outburst like that, and didn’t want to talk anymore about it… or at least wouldn’t be in a right mind to listen to anything positive Greg had to say. Greg wasn’t sure even what he had to say at this point, honestly. He fumbled a text message to Kimberly.

**\- Kim, I’m freaking out. Do you have time to talk?**

Instead of a reply, Greg received a phone call only a few minutes after sending the message.   
“Greg? What’s going on?”  
“So…so I did like we talked about, and I was open with him.” Greg said in a rush.   
“And?”  
“And… I can’t be sure, I just need to talk it out… I mean, it’s so… but everything is…” Greg ranted, speaking between panicky breaths.   
“Listen, come over. Seriously. I’m a bit concerned for you right now and I would prefer to talk face to face. We can have dinner; Beth’s made Palak Paneer enough for an army.” Kim said, the concern evident in her voice. Greg was grateful for her kindness… they hadn’t known each other for long at all, and he was being invited over to talk things out.   
“Thanks, that’s … that’s really kind of you.” Greg said, breathing deeply. 

He ended the call and immediately headed out. Kimberly and Beth lived actually pretty close by, and so he was able to arrive in 15 minutes. Greg knocked on their door, and Kimberly opened it. She was fully nude, as expected, but ushered him in quickly and gave him a hug. Greg accepted it gladly.   
“You look shaken. Would you like some tea? Beth says tea helps everything.” Kim said.   
“Yeah, that’d be good. Isn’t Beth a nurse, though?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Well, tea can’t help everything she deals with…”   
“It’s time and comfort that helps, tea provides that.” Beth’s voice sounded from the kitchen. She walked in and smiled at Greg. She was wearing an apron that had splatters of green on it, but nothing else. 

“Greg, this is Beth. Beth, Greg.” Kim introduced.   
“Hi.” Greg said, smiling and reaching out to shake her hand.   
“Nice to meet you.” Beth said, seeming to appreciate that Greg didn’t treat either of them any differently because they were naked. 

They walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, and Kimberly went about fixing them tea. Beth continued to work on her curry, which made Greg’s mouth water.   
“Smells great!” Greg commented.   
“Thanks, it’s my mum’s recipe.” Beth said, turning to smile at him. “Both my parents are Indian, but I grew up in London.”   
“Authentic then.” Greg said, nodding in time with Beth. Kim brought the mugs over and sat opposite Greg. 

“So, what’s going on?”  
“Well… I told him I liked him, that I would like to get to know him more and get closer. I said I’d like to be boyfriends, but if he doesn’t then I’m happy to stay friends since I don’t want to lose him out of my life.”   
“Good, good.”  
“He… he went on explaining to me how he’s unloveable, said that he loved me, but was convinced that I’d leave him once I met him or got closer so wants to keep me as a friend in fear of me leaving completely.”  
“Oh dear…” Kim hummed. Greg nodded and took a mouthful of tea.   
“But that’s not what’s got me.” Greg added, and Kim raised an eyebrow. “The anxiety stuff? I could handle that. The self hatred and self… unloveable-ness or whatever… I could talk to him about. But it’s what he said happened yesterday to him that got me thinking about everything over the past however long and … Kim, I’ve met him. I’m sure of it. Suits is the visitor guy to the Yard.”   
“What? That guy you have the hots for?”   
“Yeah.”  
“No.” Kim gasped in disbelief. “That’s just too coincidental.”  
“That’s what I thought! But hear me out… I need someone else’s opinion.” 

Greg then proceeded to tell her about the previous conversations. How when the strange visitor appeared and took over Greg’s case, Suits talked about having to work with the police for his boss. How every time the visitor came by, Suits would talk of being annoyed doing ‘legwork’ for his boss and her husband’s mistakes. How Suits told him he found a sergeant attractive, but tried to not let it show, and how Greg had noticed the visitor ignoring him. And, most importantly, how yesterday Greg had confronted the visitor about his excluding behaviour towards him, and then noticed how the man’s occasional stares were more from attraction than disgust… and how Suits was currently distressed about being yelled at by the ‘handsome sergeant’ for noticing stolen glances at the exact same time. 

“Fuck.” Kim exclaimed, and promptly received a whack on the head from Beth.   
“Language!” Beth snapped playfully.   
“Yes dear.” Kim sighed with a smile. “But really… I think you’re bloody right.”   
“Yeah. Ok, so we’ve established that Suits, the guy I want to date, is the same guy I want to f- erh, shag senseless. What do I bloody do about it? Do I tell him in person? Do I tell him _at all_? Do I not? Do I try slip it in gently into conversation? Do I leave hints and let him figure it out? Do I…”   
“Jesus, relax Greg! This isn’t that big of a deal. Just take a breath.” Beth said, turning to him, spoon in hand. Greg looked up at her, staring down at him, an amused yet exasperated expression on her face. 

“It sounds to me that this is in your favour. The guy you found attractive is also, by a miraculous coincidence of the universe, the guy you have fallen for intellectually. You are in control here, Greg. Don’t panic.” Beth said calmly. Greg nodded in response, feeling the anxiety receding again.   
“You’re right. I mean … it’s a good thing, yeah? I don’t have to pick between them anymore…”  
“You already chose Suits, though.” Kim commented.   
“Yeah but now there’s no choice.” Greg answered. “Well, there is… I have to choose how to handle this. I don’t think he knows. In fact, I’m all but certain he doesn’t know. He doesn’t have enough information to work it out. I want to do this the best way possible for him.”   
“Hm… given his level of social anxiety and negative self image from what you said, that might be difficult.” Kimberly said thoughtfully.   
“Exactly… I don’t want to scare him off. If I directly go up to him, he will most likely panic and freak out and not talk to me because I know him in his real life and online life, and he’s just afraid.”   
“Yes, so one option is crossed out. We can work this out, slowly.”

Beth announced that the curry was ready, and so served up three portions and shed herself of her apron. She joined them at the table, next to Kim. Greg took a mouthful and hummed in appreciation.   
“Oh this is great, Beth.”   
“Thanks. It’s definitely worth the extra work to dry roast and grind the spices and make the paneer yourself.”   
“Shit, really? Damn, well done you.” Greg said, impressed. She smiled a thanks to him, and they continued eating.   
“I will say, you guys have the right idea when it comes to curry… I’m scared of dropping anything on this shirt; it’ll never come out.” Greg said, eyeing the bright green mix. The girls giggled together.   
“It has its perks.” Kim chuckled. 

They discussed the situation with Suits, and Greg was starting to feel more comfortable about it. Greg decided that it was best not to tell Suits he knew who he was just yet. Kimberly had the great idea of trying to ease him into thinking Greg was genuine with his affections online, maybe even get Suits to feel ok with returning them, and Beth had suggested that Greg also use his real-life persona to help Suits feel like being liked for his looks was also a possibility. Greg started to feel excited at the idea of playing ‘the long game’, and being a secret admirer for Suits. He agreed with them that it would be best to try help the man’s self esteem before throwing a real life meeting and potential relationship in his face. Greg was up for the challenge. 

Greg returned home with a belly full of curry, and open invitation to return, and a plan for his next moves when it came to the game of ‘win Suits over’. He was going to keep reminding Suits online of his affections, all the while attempting to forge some kind of friendship with him as Sergeant Lestrade. Suits seemed to be the kind of man that was worth the effort for… someone genuine, intelligent, kind, interesting, and as Greg now knew… hot as fuck. 

He looked at his phone; Suits still hadn’t said anything, but that was to be expected. Greg sat at his computer and began to write a long message for Suits to find in the morning. Hopefully, it’d help him. Greg found that once he started, it was fairly easy to keep talking. He sent the message, and then decided to have an early night. He had to try and find out the name and location of their ‘liaison’ in the morning, so that he could head on over there and initiate phase one: try spark a friendship. 


	8. Chapter 8

Mycroft knew he had to get up, but it was proving more difficult than it should. He’d cried a lot before finally being able to sleep, and he’d woken up fairly regularly during the night. As a result, his eyes were bloodshot and he had dark circles forming around them. It wasn’t exactly the best image to maintain. If he was _actually_ just a PA to Vivian, then he would have called in sick. Unfortunately for him, he was a secret service employee; and getting sick leave was a lot more complicated when they were involved. Emotional pain from failed friendships was not a legitimate reason for time off— in their view. 

He sat up and rubbed his face. A shower and some concealer, and he’d be looking perfectly fine. His eyes looked at his phone, and Mycroft felt conflicted about checking it. He desperately wanted to hear from Pint, but he was afraid of what he’d find. Pint was the person he’d go to for comfort when things were difficult or too much, and Mycroft was already suffering feeling the loss of that. Eventually Mycroft decided that he’d rather know, than not. He picked up the phone and swallowed when he saw that he had a message from Pint.   
_This is it, the rejection._

Mycroft opened the message without taking a breath. 

_Suits,  
_ _I’m sorry that you felt confronted yesterday. I’m also sorry that it’s taken until now to respond to you. Something came up and I needed to go for a while to work it out, and in doing so I forgot how much you panic when not getting a response.  
_ _Firstly, you can’t scare me away from liking you. I’ve already felt that for you based on all of our interactions so far. Your self-image isn’t going to make me change my views, but I hope that my views can instead change your self image. You are wonderful, you are witty and smart and very kind. These are things I value and you can’t tell me I’m wrong because I’ve experienced it myself. You are the person I go to when things are tough because I feel I can always rely on you.  
_ _Secondly, I think your anxieties and ideas self-worth have skewed your perception of your loveable-ness. You know I’m someone that prefers a mental connection over physical attraction, but that doesn’t mean I won’t like how you look either. You probably look really good, and there’s people out there that would look at you and think man that guy’s hot. But you are right… that’s not enough for a relationship. You told me early on that you didn’t want to find someone that likes you just for your body… well, I (since you’ve already said it, I think it’s ok to say it myself) love you for your mind. That’s what you’ve wanted, so I hope you can see that I’m genuine and something you don’t need to be afraid of.  
_ _Finally, I think if you gave people a chance around you, they’d like you for who you are as well. I know you don’t have friends, but maybe you should try? I mean, I got along with you so well… I can’t be the only one. Even if I am, then you can still be friends with me. Nothing you’ve said has made me change my opinions of you… it’s only made me want to hold you and convince you that it’s possible to be loved. And even if things don’t work out, Suits, then I’m not going to suddenly abandon a friendship with you. I think you need to be given permission to be happy, and so I am giving it to you. Please, give me a chance… I like you, you like me… that’s all that really matters.  
_ _Pint._

Mycroft read it twice before realising he needed to still breathe. He gasped in air, and then found himself staring at the words while his heart pounded and he panted. He felt relief wash over him… Pint wanted to still be in contact with him. More than that, Pint still wanted to try and have something more than friendship. Mycroft remained confused as to how that would even work, but his heart leapt at the thought of trying. He denied some parts of Pint’s message, the parts about others liking him and finding him attractive, but the way it was worded made Mycroft hope it could be true. There was one word in particular that made Mycroft’s throat close up in excitement: love. Pint had said it back. He’d been so worried about Pint raging against him for his confession of love, and here he was, reading a message wherein Pint reciprocated it. 

Unfortunately, Mycroft found himself more conflicted than he was before reading the message. He wanted to try, he wanted to believe Pint and he wanted to attempt a relationship that he desperately wanted… but at the same time, there was a raging storm that told him he was making a mistake, that he was a horrible person that would ruin everything, that Pint would only hurt him and so it would be better to not open himself up to that. Mycroft felt extremely anxious and vulnerable. Pint had called Mycroft out regarding his anxious self-thoughts, the self-depreciation that was illogical and from his past. That didn’t stop him feeling it, however. It just made him wonder which parts of it were really true… and such a questioning was wreaking havoc on his mind. Could it be possible to have a relationship and be happy? 

He didn’t type a response. He couldn’t think of what to say. He wanted to have made a decision before responding, but he needed time to make that decision. Pint would understand that, at least. Mycroft, instead, focused on something immensely easier: getting ready for work. He didn’t think he was ever more grateful for his job being mind-numbing. He could use a little numbing for his overworked mind right now. 

~

Mycroft was doing some data entry on his computer. He was focused a lot more on it than he usually was, but it helped him to calm the anxiety that hadn’t left him since he woke. It was just one of those days where if he let his mind wander at all, he was under threat of a panic attack. He hadn’t looked at his phone, since thinking about that was just inviting trouble. Avoiding all of the stressful things of his life was working out fairly well… until he saw the sergeant from NSY walk in the door. 

Mycroft instantly tensed and had to start reminding himself how to breathe normally so that no one would see his panic.   
_What was he doing here? Had he come specifically to harass me more? Was there some more legwork to be done?_

“Hi.” The sergeant said as he reached Mycroft’s desk.   
“Hello.” Mycroft responded coolly, using his detached persona as much as possible. He hated that he still found the man was still incredibly attractive despite the feelings of hurt their confrontation had caused. Mycroft then realised that there was silence extending beyond what was normal, and so continued. “If you are here to see Mrs Sandoz, she is in a meeting until after lunch.”   
“No, I … I’m actually here to see you.”   
“Oh. And might I enquire as to why?” Mycroft asked professionally, raising his eyebrow. The man’s face lit up in a smile.   
“I wanted to apologise to you. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I’ve felt bad about it, and the more I think about it, the more I want to make it up to you.”  
“I… that’s very kind of you, sergeant, but wholly-”  
“Greg, please. Greg Lestrade. And I disagree, I think it _is_ necessary.” Greg smiled. Mycroft fought the urge to squint at him suspiciously.   
“Well, thank you for your apology.” Mycroft stated, and made to return to his work.   
“I haven’t finished yet! I wanted to actually make it up to you. I know we’re going to be in contact for a bit given the whole… situation, and so I wondered if maybe I could buy you a coffee?” Greg asked hopefully.   
Mycroft wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t seem to register in his brain that the man that had caused him pain two days ago was now offering something he’d really enjoy today.   
“I… I’m sorry?”  
“Coffee. Conversation would also be nice, but if you want to sit in silence and drink, then that’d be ok too…”  
“You want to take me out for coffee? Lestrade, I-“  
“Greg.”  
“Greg, then, I don’t …” Mycroft began. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he ‘didn’t’. He _did_ want coffee and conversation, but he didn’t want to be sucked into some manipulative game … but he could hardly state that fact directly right now.   
“Just to clarify: I want to be friends, Mr…?”  
“Holmes. However I know you knew that, as you have located my place of work. I appreciate your attempt at politeness all the same, though.”   
“Yeah. Heh, you’re way too smart to be just a PA, aren’t you? You should come work with me, with deduction skills like that. Anyway I wanted to say that I’m not trying to force a date or anything with you, I just want to bridge the gap between us and get to know you better. Start afresh, you know? No resentment for taking my case and no pain from a shouting confrontation.” 

Mycroft scanned the man’s face and found his words to be truths. He had instantly felt overwhelmed by the implication of being asked on a date: the man that he found attractive was asking him for a coffee date while the man he loved was telling him he wanted to try a relationship? It was all very confusing to be happening all at once. He felt calmer, however, that the police officer was just extending the hand of friendship. Mycroft thought he caught the brief expression of attraction from him, but dismissed it. If he was going to try any kind of romantic relationship, it would be with someone he had a deep connection with. Not someone that just looked at him and felt aroused. Pint’s words from that morning echoed in his brain: _maybe you should try?_ Maybe he should? The risks seemed minimal with the sergeant. If it didn’t work out, then their association would end eventually and they’d have no reason to communicate, and if things went sour then professionalism would prevent any personal attacks on him. If such happened, he had the rights to file complaints and have the matter resolved. He wasn’t sure _exactly_ where the line fell between inappropriate behaviour punishable professionally and personal disputes, but having some kind of safety to fall back on helped him feel a lot more comfortable. He then realised he’d been staring back at the policeman for some time in a stunned silence. 

“Yes, that is acceptable.” Mycroft stated, adjusting himself in the chair.   
“Great! When is good for you?” Greg beamed.   
“Um, I believe tomorrow lunch I am free.”  
“That sounds good to me. I’ll come back tomorrow then. Talk to you later.” Greg said, and nodded at Mycroft. He then turned around and walked out of the building before Mycroft had a chance to second-guess his decision.   
“At least I made it for tomorrow…” Mycroft mumbled to himself. It gave him time to emotionally prepare for it. There was no way he was stable enough to jump into something like that today. All he wanted to do was message Pint and talk about it. Talking seemed to help calm the thoughts inside him. The data entry was almost complete, and he had no more work scheduled for the day; and so he decided that he could take some time and reach out to Pint. The man would likely be able to respond in an hour during his lunch break, and Mycroft wanted some time to think about what he was going to say. 

_Suits:_ Pint… I appreciate your message. I admit I was rather upset with myself for admitting my feelings towards you, and worried when there was no response. I am still convinced that you will decide you don’t want someone like me. I will be honest: I’m afraid, Pint. This is all new territory for me. I am not sure of how I feel regarding proceeding. I am happy that you reciprocate, and relieved you aren’t leaving.   
_Suits:_ I have to talk to you about something else, however. I am confused. The police officer I talked to you about has come to me and apologised for his behaviour, and asked to take me out to coffee. He said he wanted to be friends, that he wasn’t ‘asking me out’, but you have more understanding about these things. I agreed but I’m scared. You’re the only one I can be so brutally honest with. What am I supposed to do? It’s strange to have you tell me you like me and then have someone want to be ‘friends’. What if it’s all just a ploy to make me feel horrible?

Mycroft drummed his fingers on the desk. It was still forty-three minutes until Pint had his lunch break. Mycroft knew he had to stop himself talking, or else he’d just ramble on and on… and that wasn’t good for anything. Still, he found himself unable to concentrate and just generally restless. He couldn’t sit still. He needed to move, to do something to distract himself from the agonising wait for Pint’s response.   
_Why on Earth did I message now and not later?_

After re-organising his desk, updating the filling cabinet, straightening the stationary in the supplies cupboard, and refilling the printer, Mycroft slipped out for lunch. His heart leapt when he saw Pint had responded. 

_Pint:_ Well I’ll just have to keep reminding you that I think you’re awesome and I want to try be that close someone for you until you’re comfortable with the idea.   
_Pint:_ As for the friendship thing, I think you should give it a shot. Don’t worry about being manipulated… this isn’t high school anymore. There’s no reason for someone to manipulate you.   
_Suits:_ People can have many reasons to manipulate me. Humans enjoy causing each other harm. You’re a cop, I’m sure you know this.   
_Pint:_ Yes, I know people can be awful. But not everyone’s like that. Most people are just trying to be friendly without the ulterior motive. Making other people feel bad just takes a lot of effort and there’s little reward when they don’t know each other much. Trust me, the cop isn’t going to turn around and make fun of you.   
_Suits:_ Oh, and you can be sure of that, can you?  
 _Pint:_ As sure as anyone can be. Just relax, and see how it goes. You’re allowed to be nervous, and no one is expecting you to be extroverted. Be you, and if he likes your company as you, then you will feel better for it. 

Mycroft eyed the words and somehow felt relieved. It was true: it was a lot of effort just to make a stranger uncomfortable or upset. Sergeant Lestrade did seem to be genuine. And Pint was right: he could just be himself and if it was appreciated, then it would be great; if not, then there was no loss. It would be better to have company being himself than the stressful situation of trying to be someone else. 

_Suits:_ You’re right. Thank you. I will give it a shot. Will you be around in case it goes badly?  
 _Pint:_ I’ll be there the whole time. You shouldn’t really chat on your phone while in the company of people, though. It gives the impression you’re disinterested. Maybe wait until afterwards?   
_Suits:_ Thank you. Yes, of course.   
_Pint:_ When is this coffee not-date going to be?  
 _Suits:_ Tomorrow.   
_Pint:_ Are you going to dress up nice for it?  
 _Suits:_ I always dress nicely. I don’t see the point in it as it is not a date. I am not interested in dating.   
_Pint:_ Not even me?  
 _Suits:_ Well… that is a non sequitur, as we are online friends.   
_Pint:_ I could still take you out to dinner, even online.   
_Suits:_ And how is that even going to work?  
 _Pint:_ I’ll give you lots of cookies. 

Mycroft chuckled to himself as he stared at the screen. He smiled as he typed a response. 

_Suits:_ That was terrible.   
_Pint:_ At least I didn’t make a joke about bytes.   
_Suits:_ True. That would have been horrendous.   
_Pint:_ I could buy you a takeaway delivered to your place?  
 _Suits:_ That would require you to already know my address.   
_Pint:_ Indeed, you’ve got me there. 

It was reassuring that despite the emotional difficulties, he could still relax and enjoy conversation with Pint. He did really want to try for something closer… but it still scared him. He was grateful that Pint was ok ‘waiting’ until he was ready. ‘Waiting’ seemed to be mentioning it all the time whilst remaining patient. Not that Mycroft minded. 

_Suits:_ So have you read anything interesting lately?   
_Pint:_ A few things, I’ll send you the links when I get home. You?  
 _Suits:_ Unless an ‘urban dictionary’ counts, I have not.   
_Pint:_ Why would you need to read an urban dictionary?  
 _Suits:_ So I can understand some of the things my boss says to me. It’s ridiculous. I feel like throwing an actual dictionary or thesaurus at her. Perhaps a copy of the regulations regarding appropriate workplace conduct as well.   
_Pint:_ What did she say? And you still have a book dictionary? Of course you do… I’d bet you’d know most of the words in it as well, wouldn’t you?  
 _Suits:_ Hardly. I believe the sentence she came up with was: “Great night out. Tanya totally clam jammed Sonya and so they’re not speaking, and Mel bought a whole pitcher of margaritas that I downed. But, yolo, right? I’m gonna be in my office lying down.”   
_Pint:_ Your boss is way unprofessional.   
_Suits:_ You understood that mess?  
 _Pint:_ Yeah. I have been trying to expand my vocabulary.   
_Suits_ : You should attempt to _improve_ your vocabulary instead.   
_Pint_ : Ha! Touché. I’ve been using a Thesaurus, actually. You know, the mind is a terrible thing to garbage.   
_Suits:_ That was worse than the cookies.   
_Pint:_ Of course garbage is worse than cookies. What kind of cookies did you get as a kid?  
 _Suits:_ I was restricted from eating cookies due to my weight.   
_Pint:_ Fuck, Suits… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I’ll give you cookies. Good ones. Chocolate ones. To hell with weight. You need to enjoy things.   
_Suits:_ You still can’t give me anything in reality.   
_Pint:_ Here [image attached]. Virtual cookies have no calories so you don’t have to worry about it.   
_Suits:_ They might not have calories, but they do have energy.  
 _Pint:_ Lol, you are hilarious. Just be like this tomorrow over coffee and I’m sure your cop friend will enjoy you company. I have to go now… Talk tonight.   
_Suits:_ Talk to you soon. 

Mycroft went back into his office, already feeling a lot better than when he’d left. If attempting a relationship with Pint was as easy as it was to just have casual conversation, then it wouldn’t be so bad. Even if the coffee meeting tomorrow went terribly, as he assumed it would (he never could make friends), he’d at least have Pint to cheer him up afterwards. 


	9. Chapter 9

Mycroft sat at the table, trying to maintain a calm exterior. Greg Lestrade was sitting across from him, smiling. They’d ordered their drinks, the sergeant had paid, and then selected a table in the back garden of the café where there were few other patrons.   
_Stay calm, it’s ok… there’s no pressure, just interact like I would anyone else. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? This is a social meeting; I can’t act like a detached uncaring official. How do people usually interact when they meet socially? What do I do with my hands? I’ll leave them on the table… no, no he can see them shaking. Thread them together? No, that’s still not right… I’ll just put them in my lap. Is that too formal? And where am I supposed to look? Do I keep his gaze? Drat, he expects conversation if I do that… I’ll look away. Wait, no, he thinks I’m ignoring him now. Why do people do this?!  
_ “You alright?” Greg asked, noticing Mr Holmes fidgeting and looking about. He tried not to let his concern show too much. He felt sorry for Suits; he seemed so uncomfortable, like a fish out of water.   
“Fine.” Mycroft responded, giving a smile that he was sure was more of a wince. He desperately just wanted to get his coffee to have something to fill his hands and mouth.   
“You don’t do this often, do you?” Greg asked light-heartedly, trying to make it obvious that he wasn’t making fun of the man.   
“No,” Mycroft said. He wanted to explain more, to explain that he wasn’t sure how social interaction worked at that it scared him… hopefully, gain a bit of understanding in that regard. But, of course, he was too terrified to actually say anything.   
“I know I said we could sit in silence if it made you more comfortable, but silence doesn’t seem to be comfortable for you either,” Greg said. “How about I just tell you a little about myself?”  
“Why?” Mycroft asked.   
“Because that’s just how people get to know each other better,” Greg responded, suppressing a sigh. Suits _really_ didn’t have a natural tact for conversation. He found it rather adorable, but admittedly was only inclined to try harder at conversation because he knew the man more. If this had been a stranger, Greg probably would have decided that his coffee companion didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to be around him, and would have just left it at that: drank in awkward silence and never talked to him again. Greg knew it wasn’t likely that he’d notice the stand-offish behaviour and conversation thus far as being from a nervous person, rather than an arsehole.   
_Oh Suits, we have some work to do…  
_ “And why, may I ask, do you wish to know me better?” Mycroft asked, his eyes squinting.   
… _So much work, Suits.  
_ “I guess because we’ll be working together for a while. I’ve noticed you for a while, and to be honest I’ve found you interesting,” Greg said. He was constantly making a conscious effort to not lie at any point. It might be a challenge, but he was up for it. He didn’t want to lie to Suits; that would just make it seem like it was a game, a manipulation done for fun… and that was the last impression he wanted to give.   
“How so?”  
“I dunno, you’re different, I guess. I see a lot of people working this job, but you stood out.”  
“Oh,” Mycroft said dejectedly. He sighed inwardly and sunk a little.   
“Hey, that’s a good thing, mate! Why be like everyone else? I like interesting people; trust me, you don’t want to be like most of the people I encounter on a day-to-day basis, anyway.” Greg grinned, hoping to be rewarded with a relaxed smile. He received an awkward grimace, and Greg decided it was close enough.   
_Immediately takes comments negatively, and doesn’t know how to handle positive feedback. Good to know; stuff for us to work on. Maybe if he stops seeing everything as negative towards himself, he’ll be a bit more comfortable._

The waitress brought out their coffees, and rested them on the table. Greg gave a warm smile to thank her, and Mycroft merely nodded his appreciation. Mycroft was glad to have something to do with his body, and so reached out to hold the cup.   
“So, it’s pretty obvious that I like my job. I don’t like it when I get my cases taken away from me, though,” Greg said, trying to poke some fun with their common ground.   
“That was not my decision.”  
“I know, don’t worry. I can tell you’re equally as pissed as I am about it.”  
“You can, can you?”  
“Yes. It’s not that hard. I hope to make Detective one day; I try to practice reading people and situations as often as I can. Which, by the way, is why I can tell your…” Greg waved his hands in front of Mycroft, indicating to his whole body, “… is just a front. You play the detached professional well, but I know better.” Greg grinned.   
“Astute,” Mycroft said, raking his eyes over the sergeant.   
_Honest, hard worker, spends a large portion of time reading… interesting, I had not expected that. Perhaps this policeman has more of a brain on his head than is presented.  
_ “Reading people is a skill not limited to the police force.” Mycroft smirked while taking a sip of his coffee. His tone was still a little cold and reserved, but he hoped the officer would recognise the hint of playfulness in his voice. He knew that few people registered his humour, let alone enjoyed it. He was glad that drinking coffee effectively masked his tension awaiting a response. Mycroft tried to remember what Pint had said: be yourself. ‘ _It’s better to be win or lose as ourselves, than win as someone else’_ … or something akin to that.   
“Ha! You’re right there. I’d imagine you’d have to read people fairly well in politics as well. Though, admittedly, it seems a bit easier… in politics you can just assume they’re lying, selfish arseholes and edit from there.” Greg laughed. His heart warmed to see that Suits joined in his laughter.   
“I wish I could tell you that you are wrong, however based solely on my experience, I cannot.”  
“Why do you do it, then? You obviously don’t like working for those kinds of people.”   
Mycroft paused and thought. He could hardly say that he enjoyed it, since it was indeed obvious he did not; but he couldn’t say he was working for the secret service either, and that was the part that he liked. He decided to give an ambiguous truth. “Everyone has to start somewhere. If I am to try make this world a better place, I have to endure some hardship to get to that position.”   
“That’s a very good answer,” Greg stated. He was honestly impressed. “I hope you get to where you’re aiming for; the world needs people like you in charge, I think.”   
“Thank you. I shall endeavour to remember that when my boss is being particularly trying.”   
Greg tried hard not to look proud. Now that Suits had settled into the conversation, he was being a lot less off-putting and actually enjoyable to talk with.   
_We just have to work on bringing this part of the conversation up earlier. Much earlier._

“What kinds of things does your boss make you do, aside from trying to weasel her way out of the law?”   
“The work I am required to do is appropriate for someone of my position. It is her attitude that I find especially difficult.”   
“Ah. Is she one of those, ‘don’t give a shit about work’, types?”  
“I believe she values her job, but for the wrong reasons. She likes the power and control, first and foremost. I believe she elected to do this line of work simply to give herself a sense of importance over others.”   
“Blah, tyrants are annoying to work for. The Chief Super is a bit like that, if I’m honest.”   
“Yes, well, most politicians I have met relish in that sense of superiority. It is the fact she exonerates her utterly unprofessional behaviour with that dastardly opinion…” Mycroft trailed off with a grumble. He so rarely got to complain about his boss, and was enjoying it. He was still aware that he should not make such public proclamations of distaste for his employer, however, and decided that perhaps what he’d said was enough.   
“Sounds like it’d have been better to just have let her resign when her husband murdered that bloke.”   
“Undoubtedly. However as we are not the decision makers, and merely the pawns used by those in power to enforce their game plans, we must simply obey despite our judgements,” Mycroft growled.   
“You don’t like being anyone’s pawn,” Greg said. It wasn’t a question… it was obvious. The passion with which Suits spoke made him grin fondly.   
“No, I do not.”  
“Why?”   
“Why would anyone _like_ being commanded such?”   
“I’ve met a few people who prefer to have the decisions made for them. When there’s a strict chain of command, people feel like they can absolve their own guilt for their actions because it’s being ordered of them; but that’s more just enjoying being not to blame for things they do, or born out of necessity like the army sometimes does to a man. Really, though, there are people who like having their lives planned out by others. It makes them feel safe, in a way.”  
Mycroft nodded and hummed in approval. Greg had indeed made a good point regarding exoneration of guilt; and he’d not considered that there were people who _liked_ to be told where to go and what to do in order to get a rigidity in their lives they might otherwise be without. Mycroft valued the structure in his life immensely, but he had to be the one to create it.  
“Each to their own, really,” Greg said, “I personally don’t mind. I do as I’m told because it’s part of the job, but I like to make my own decisions. It’s only when I’m forced to do something that I really disagree with that I have trouble.”   
“A good way to be, given your occupation.”  
“I suppose. Still, I wish I had the power to dish out proper justice as I saw it.”   
“Sergeant, I must say that sounds rather akin to vigilante justice than of due process of the law.”   
“Don’t worry, I’m not about to break ranks and wear tights.” Greg laughed. He could see himself as batman… he’d often thought of it as fun.   
“To be clear: you are denying that you are currently a superhero? Be aware you _are_ on record.” Mycroft jested, his smile reaching his eyes for once.   
“Oh, I proclaim it to be completely a false accusation. I’m no hero.”   
“You do not deny being ‘super’, then? Need I fear being whisked away to a secret lair?”   
“Haha! Oh, Mr Holmes, you are hilarious,” Greg managed to say between chuckles.   
“Mycroft.”   
“Great… Mycroft.” Greg grinned stupidly. Mycroft returned it. “No, I’m not a super villain either. That’s not a bad idea, though, for a story; a super-villain that moonlights as a police officer, making sure that all of his evil plans are never thwarted by the law!”   
“I’m sure it has been written.”   
“Probably. I don’t really read superhero stuff, so I wouldn’t know. I mean, I’ll watch the movies when they come out, but that’s about all.” 

They continued to discuss their tastes in films, comparisons of said films to the books, as well as a myriad of other topics. The fact that they had completed their coffees quite some time ago didn’t matter to either of them. Unfortunately, though, time caught up with them.   
“This has been great, Mycroft, but I have to get back to the station.”  
“I must also return to my desk of boredom.” Mycroft commented with a grin. He’d really, honestly, enjoyed his conversation.   
“Yes, that boredom isn’t going to happen on its own. At least I get to put my mind to something interesting when I get back. I’d love to catch up again soon, though, if you don’t mind?”  
Mycroft was immensely grateful that Greg had suggested it, as he desperately wanted to, but was too afraid to ask. The fear of asking and being rejected was just too strong. “I would enjoy that, I believe, sergeant.”   
“Great. How about I come back and we can do a proper lunch, instead of just coffee?”  
“Most agreeable.” Mycroft nodded.   
“Alright. How’s Wednesday?”  
“I am free, I shall see you then. Thank you, Greg.” Mycroft was sure to make his appreciation as sincere as possible.   
“Anytime. Until then.” Greg smiled and left the coffee shop, a spring in his step. That had gone spectacularly. Once Suits — well, he probably should be calling him Mycroft now — had been drawn out of his shell, and the subsequent bites withstood, he was actually fun to talk to. Greg had suspected as much, but had thought a lot more coaxing for conversation would have been required. 

~

Mycroft had spent the remainder of his day with a happy glow. He’d gone out, a rarity for him, and met someone for coffee — even more of a rarity — and against all predictions, he’d had a good time. Sergeant Lestrade was patient in conversation, and shared interest in many of the same topics as Mycroft. He couldn’t wait until he was home and could share the good news with Pint. He had been fairly preoccupied at work for the afternoon and so didn’t have a change to send a message until he’d gotten home. A message was waiting for him, though, when he checked. 

_Pint:_ Hey, Suits! How did it go? Was it really as terrible as you expected?  
 _Suits:_ Hey Pint. Surprisingly, I had a good time. The sergeant was easy to talk to and was patient.   
_Pint:_ Meaning he withstood your icy blast to then see the wonderful person underneath. That’s great! You should try easing up on your frozen breath to start with, Mr Iceman.   
_Suits:_ How do you know I was cold and detached to begin with? For all you know, I was a nervous wreck.   
_Pint:_ Oh, I have no doubt you were both. I know you, remember.   
_Suits:_ Guilty. How was your day?  
 _Pint:_ Insightful. I found out some useful information regarding a personal project of mine, and I managed to close off a case.   
_Suits:_ Sounds productive. I myself found I was more productive once the fear of the impending coffee meeting was over. I completed the work that I normally would have left to hang into tomorrow’s workload.   
_Pint:_ Sounds to me that you felt happy that you weren’t a failure at conversation like you thought.   
_Suits:_ Indeed. It was … strange. Normally people don’t sit with me long enough to start engaging in conversation. I am most pleased that this time I was able to settle into light ‘chatter’ and have it be rewarding. I fear that the sergeant is not of the same opinion.   
_Pint:_ What makes you think he didn’t enjoy himself?  
 _Suits:_ Simply because I am not enjoyable company? It is feasible he was merely being polite.   
_Pint:_ Don’t give me that shit, I know you. You are enjoyable company, and you’d make an excellent partner even. Let me tell you one thing: if someone doesn’t want to engage in conversation with you, they try and leave as soon as their obligations are done. Did he leave once his coffee was finished?  
 _Suits:_ No, he didn’t… we talked until his lunch break was over. And I highly doubt your conclusion regarding being a good partner.   
_Pint:_ That’s for me to decide, and I’ve decided I would like to have you as a partner. Tough balls, buddy. And that’s a very good sign, you know. For those of us privy to lots of social information, electing to stay longer than expected means they’re enjoying talking with you. Electing to stay until they have other obligations means they’re _really_ enjoying your company. If they asked to see you again, then they want to be a friend… or at least see where that leads.   
_Suits:_ He did ask to see me again, actually. I wanted to ask, since it was the first time I had ever really put myself out there and have it work out. I was too terrified, though.   
_Pint:_ Excellent! I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded, though, if you had asked. You need to be a bit more outgoing… it’d do you good. Maybe try and see if your new friend can help you get some confidence together to meet people and talk with them.   
_Suits:_ … Are you telling me to get social lessons in order to become confident enough to meet you?  
 _Pint:_ You have seen right through me… Seriously, though, I do want to meet you… but only when you’re ok with it. I honestly like you Suits and I think you’d be great company.   
_Suits:_ I am less certain.  
 _Pint:_ I will keep working with you until you are certain of it. Well, at least, agreeable to the idea. I can work on the ‘great company’ idea on our first date.  
 _Suits_ : You are remarkably insistent that there will be a first date.  
 _Pint:_ Of course. I’m not going to let someone as amazing as you slip away just because you’re too nervous to take the plunge. 

Mycroft didn’t know how to respond. Pint was still insistent with his affections… and honestly meant them. Mycroft wanted to say thank you, he wanted to say he’ll try harder, that he appreciated not being left behind… but didn’t know how to word it and not be terrified. The idea of meeting Pint was remarkably less intimidating as it had been yesterday, but it was still in the ‘wistful thinking’ category and not something he’d consider actually doing. However, he couldn’t stop thinking about how well he’d gotten along with the sergeant today, and wish somewhere in his fantasies that Pint would be as easy to talk to. That thought made the idea of meeting him a much less scary concept. 

_Pint_ : I meant what I said. I have fallen for you, Suits. Everything that makes you… you.   
_Suits:_ I… I reciprocate.   
_Suits:_ I must turn in early, goodnight.

It was a little cowardly to run from the conversation, Mycroft had to admit, but the topic was rather anxiety-provoking. He’d admitted again to his feelings, and he wasn’t even sure why that it scared him so, only that it did. He needed just a bit of space to himself to calm down and re-centre. He opened up his _FanFicBook_ dashboard and started reading one of the longer stories he’d been putting off. The realisation that he was more agreeable to ‘romance’ and ‘fluff’ compared to the ‘hurt/comfort’ he usually enjoyed had not escaped his attention. He permitted himself this small concession to his secret aspirations of such romance with Pint. 


	10. Chapter 10

“Hello, you’ve reached the office of Vivian Sandoz, this is Mycroft Holmes.”   
“Mycroft? Hi, it’s Greg.”  
“Hello, sergeant.”  
“Hey, listen—”  
Mycroft froze as he heard the words, staring into space at his desk. His mind went into overdrive as he somehow was unable to breathe from the panic.   
_Is Greg calling to cancel our lunch today? Does that mean he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore? I knew it, I was right… I wasn’t good company, he doesn’t want to see me again. What was I thinking? I can make friends? What an idea… you fool, Mycroft. Why does it hurt so much to hear the rejection I knew was coming? Was I really that excited to see him again? I - I was, wasn’t I? I thought perhaps I could have made a friend, that perhaps meeting me wasn’t the end of an association… that maybe Pint… Wait, shut up, Mycroft, he’s still talking, pay attention!  
_ “—ling to say that I’ve been called out on a case and so won’t be able to make our lunch. I was hoping that you might be free for dinner instead?”   
_Ok, a case, that’s a reasonable excuse, he is a police officer after all… wait, what? Dinner? Like, in a restaurant with other people around and everything? Is he asking me out? First I thought he didn’t want to see me and now we’re going on a date? WHAT IS HAPPENING?  
_ “Mycroft, you there?”   
_Shit, I haven’t said anything for a while. What do I say? Quick, say something or he’ll think you’re weird. I_ am _weird, voice in my head. Yeah, but you’re still not talking!  
_ “Uhh…”  
“Look I know this is last minute and all, so I totally get it if you have plans. I just thought I’d put the offer out there because I would really like to catch up today… God knows I need a bit of a laugh and some relaxation after this case.”   
_Laugh? Going by context he doesn’t seem to mean laugh at me. He must have been really sincere in his enjoyment last time to seek me out for a ‘laugh’. That still sounds strange. But relaxation? What does that mean? Is he trying to just get laid? Wait I’m still not talking, am I?  
_ “You alright? Oh, shit… sorry, I should have made it clear… dinner isn’t a date, it’s just the next meal available for a friendly catch-up.”   
“Thank you for clarifying.”   
“So, you free?”   
“Uhh…”  
_I want to, I really really do. I am free. Say yes… just say it. Say yes, damnit! Pint, I need help!  
_ “Hehe, sorry, I know I’ve caught you off guard.”   
“I… I want to. I need to check my calendar first, can I call you back?”   
“Oh, um, yeah sure. I’ll give you my mobile since we’re headed off now.”   
Mycroft wrote the number down, grateful that Greg was being so considerate to his inability to respond more than awkward noises. He was rather pleased with himself being able to make such a diplomatic answer whilst most of his brain was screaming at itself. He said he’d call back soon, and then instantly opened up his messenger program on his phone. 

_Suits:_ Pint… pint I need you.   
_Suits:_ I know you’re working and so probably won’t see this for another few hours but I’m really hoping you’ll glance at your phone and see this.   
_Suits:_ I don’t know what to do, I need advice. 

Mycroft was ready to give up, to just back out of the dinner, when he heard the tone that signalled Pint’s response. 

_Pint:_ Suits? What’s up? I can spare a bit of time right now.   
_Suits:_ Great… I’m sorry to be a bother.   
_Pint:_ You’re never a bother, dear. What’s going on?  
 _Suits:_ The police sergeant called me and asked to move our lunch to a dinner.   
_Pint:_ Ok.  
 _Suits:_ But I’m freaking out.   
_Pint:_ Why?

That was a difficult question. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was panicking. He just was, and the anxiety was the problem. He suddenly felt guilty over his reaction to reach out to Pint. The man was busy, after all, and didn’t need him there bothering with pointless issues like this… 

_Pint:_ Tell me about your feeling and thoughts, Suits.   
_Suits:_ I feel anxious. My mind keeps asking all these possibilities and nothing seems to calm it other than talking to you.   
_Pint:_ Talking them out is good. You know I’ve told you that people are more understanding about your reactions and behaviours if they know more about why. So the lunch was changed to a dinner… are you concerned that you’re being taken on a date?  
 _Suits:_ I was, but he told me it wasn’t a date. He wanted to meet after his, apparently challenging, shift. Any changes to plans makes me nervous, and I don’t know why. Maybe because there’s the possibility of things going wrong?  
 _Pint:_ Lots of people are afraid of change, it’s normal. You just have it a bit more severe than most. If you’re anxious because of that while you are there, then just tell him that. Tell him that changes make you unsettled. I’m sure he’ll understand.   
_Suits_ : Alright… I … I don’t know if I could. It took a lot for me to tell him I wanted to go at all. I haven’t even committed to it yet.   
_Pint:_ Why not? You do realise that means you now have to have two conversations with him. Maybe just saying yes would have been easier :P  
 _Suits:_ Oh lord, you’re right… why do I do this to myself? He seemed amenable to my calling him later, however… so it should be ok.   
_Pint:_ Sorry, I couldn’t help but bring it up. That’s good. Call him and tell him you will meet up. You want to, and I think it’ll be good for you.   
_Suits:_ Good for me? How?  
 _Pint:_ Getting used to small changes. Going out at dinner time when there are other people around. You’ll need to be comfortable with that last one eventually for when I take you on a date.  
 _Suits_ : You’re still rather insistent that is going to happen.   
_Pint:_ It will. You just need to practice first, then you’ll be happy to go out with me :)   
_Suits:_ I’m not sure I will. But thank you for your help.   
_Pint:_ Any time, love.   
_Pint:_ And Suits? Can I ask you something?  
 _Suits:_ Of course. And don’t think I haven’t noticed your terms of endearment.   
_Pint:_ Good. And my question is… why did you come to me about all of this?   
_Suits:_ Because…   
_Pint:_ ?  
 _Suits:_ Because you’re the person I feel most comfortable with in this world. You’re the one I can turn to anytime, and trust that you’ll be there for me. You make me feel calm and safe.  
 _Pint:_ And so why do you resist my advances so much, if you feel this way? If you’ve even told me you love me?  
 _Suits_ : I - I don’t know. Afraid of change, here as well, I guess.   
_Pint:_ Ok, well… we can talk about this later. You call back your friend and tell him you’ll meet up for dinner. I’ll let you know now, as a cop, that cases can run late. He might not be done by the time you finish your job, and so you’ll probably have to go to meet up at his station. Don’t worry about that, ok? He’ll really appreciate you saying you’ll stick around and meet him there - trust me.   
_Suits:_ Alright. Thank you, Pint. Dear.   
_Pint:_ 8D   
_Suits:_ You are such a child sometimes.   
_Pint:_ Fine, *His eyes blew wide in excitement, and his mouth broke into a large gin.*  
 _Suits:_ And you say you can’t write. Talk to you soon. 

~

Mycroft waited nervously outside Scotland Yard. He brought his umbrella; he usually argued that British weather was unpredictable and he didn’t want to wet his suits, however he brought it with him to comfort his anxiety. Having something to physically hold and tap made it a lot easier sometimes, and prevented the image of him being fidgety. Every time people walked out of the door, he seemed to jump and prepare for meeting Greg; and so after only ten minutes of waiting, he was already tired. He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Pint.   


_Suits:_ He’s still not here!  
 _Pint:_ Relax, it’s only been 21 minutes since you clocked off, so how long have you been waiting at the station?  
 _Suits_ : … 11. And now 12.   
_Pint:_ Hahah, seriously, just relax. You might be looking at another half hour easy… cases don’t follow working hours. Did he give you an estimate?   
_Suits:_ 6:30.   
_Pint:_ See, that’s not for another 8 minutes. He’s not even on time yet, love! Do something to try calm down.   
_Suits:_ I am, I’m talking to you.   
_Pint:_ Is there anything else? Because I have to go now… I won’t be able to chat with you until you’ve met your friend, so have a good evening and text me once it’s over, yeah?   
_Suits:_ What are you up to? I don’t remember you had plans…   
_Pint:_ You are nosy, aren’t you? Nah it’s alright, I just have to head back into the office and finish up some stuff before I can leave for the day. Talk soon. 

Mycroft huffed to himself. It was most inconvenient of Pint to leave him waiting alone out the front of Scotland Yard. He supposed Pint was right, though… he was early, and cases ran independent of work hours. He drummed his fingers on the handle of his umbrella. 

Greg got out of the car and went to his desk, dumping the paperwork he’d need to fill out tomorrow on his desk. He was lucky that it wasn’t pressing, so that he could still head out to dinner with Mycroft. He’d almost let it slip in the car… Suits had exclaimed that ‘he wasn’t here’, and Greg had instinctively made to respond with ‘relax, I’m on my way.’ That wouldn’t have been good. He glanced at his reflection in the window and registered that he was still in his uniform. He was lucky that he kept a change of clothes in his locker. He quickly changed into a somewhat crumpled shirt, tie, and trousers. He nodded at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look like he was dressed up for a date, but still looked nicer and more appropriate for a dinner with a friend than in his uniform. 

Walking out of the Yard, he saw Mycroft standing waiting for him. He smiled, and was glad that he was met with a smile in return.   
_Good job, Suits. Look at you, being friendly._

“Mr Holmes, good to see you. I’m sorry about the change of plans. I’m glad you could make it.”   
“Mycroft, please. Do you have a particular venue in mind?” Mycroft asked, smiling again as he’d practiced.   
“Um not really, I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest. What do you like?”  
“Uhh,” Mycroft said, the guttural noise escaping of its own accord. What did he like? He had to narrow down the culinary world into a few words? How was he supposed to manage that?   
“Hehe,” Greg chuckled, quickly deciding to change the topic, “that’s fine, there’s so much to choose from in the city. Why don’t we just take a walk and see if anything takes our fancy?”   
Mycroft didn’t know if that would help the situation, but agreed none the less. 

They walked in silence, and Greg was hoping Mycroft would say something. He decided that he wasn’t quite at the point of being able to bring up topics of conversation, which was fine… they’d only met once before, of course. “I like your umbrella. Is it going to rain?”  
“Thank you. It’s England; it could always rain.”  
“Haha, true. Still, it seems rather bulky to carry around just in case.”  
“Why the questions about my umbrella?”   
Greg shut his mouth and took a breath. Suits —Mycroft— was rather defensive about it. Greg took a moment to compose himself from the rather abrupt harsh tone. “No reason, just making conversation,” Greg explained, “I’m not making fun of you for your choices. Try not to be so defensive, mate. Generally people aren’t looking to pick fights or make you feel bad for anything, they’re just curious or want to chat.”  
“Sorry,” Mycroft mumbled. He was appreciative of the man for explaining. He noticed the flinching that had resulted in his harsh words… he just wanted to be sure that his umbrella being a ‘comfort item’ wouldn’t be insinuated and subsequently made fun of.   
“It’s alright, we all learn eventually,” Greg said in his usual cheery tone. “So what are your thoughts about dinner? The street up here has a few good options. What are you in the mood for?”  
“I am not sure,” Mycroft grumbled, trying to not sound unsure. All of his instincts told him to avoid showing any hesitance and anxiety, since it usually became a target for people to prey on.   
“Well, there’s a couple of Chinese places, a dumpling hut, pizza of course, um… oh a curry joint, that’s not bad, and I think a Thai place opened recently. Then there’s always the pub on the corner.” Greg ran off the places in his head, realising he knew far too much about takeaway near the station than was probably healthy. It had taken him a moment to notice that Mycroft had paused and frozen in place before continuing to walk with him, a few steps behind. He turned his head around and asked, “Mycroft, you alright?”  
“Fine,” Mycroft hissed. He wasn’t fine; he was completely overwhelmed. How was he supposed to choose a place? Greg wanted him to pick somewhere based on what he was ‘in the mood for’, but how could he possibly be in the mood for food when the panic over the choice was making him want to vomit?   
_Why am I even being asked to choose? Surely he knows what is good here, so does that mean he’s judging me based on what I elect for? What if I pick something he doesn’t like; would he be upset or would he be polite and endure and then not want to see me again?_

Greg eyed Mycroft, despairing a little at the tone of voice. Suits was being defensive again, and looked rather angry. His body was stiff and he wore a frown, which would normally have been enough for Greg to know the man didn’t enjoy his company. He looked closer and saw Mycroft’s eyes darting about and his jaw clenched, he was breathing rapidly, and his hands had started to fidget on the handle of the umbrella.   
_So, nervous then. Trying to pretend everything is fine and masking it with anger… probably as a protective measure so people wouldn’t try harass him further. Suits… it’s ok. Relax. Come on… just talk to me. Explain; I know you can…  
_ “It’s just you don’t look fine; there’s no need to be angry… I’m only asking so I can offer to help.” Greg smiled again, trying to reassure Mycroft that he didn’t have any ill intent. He could see the cogs working in the man’s brain.   
_Good, yes, process that and store it away for later.  
_ “Sorry,” Mycroft mumbled again. Greg nodded at him and continued to smile. It was comforting to think that the sergeant wasn’t going to respond in anger to Mycroft’s distance.   
“Well, I like pizza. Which would you like best?” Greg asked, trying to ease the difficulty of the decision.   
“I am not fussy,” Mycroft remarked casually. He was actually rather particular, but usually could find things on a menu he’d eat. He felt it best not to bring up more complications. Things felt complicated enough already.   
“Ok, well,” Greg said, thinking for a moment. He was starting to think it might be best to just make the decision for Mycroft, but he wanted to try and get him to practice some social diplomacy. “Would you like to have pizza? Don’t just say yes because I like it, I’m happy with anything.”   
_There, Suits has an option and a way out of it.  
_ “I-I don’t mind, I guess.”   
_Ok, so still having all the options isn’t working. Narrow the field, Greg.  
_ “Hehe, so convincing,” Greg chuckled, “In that case, do you want pizza or Thai?”  
“Thai works best for me.” Mycroft answered, glad that the decision was made. He’d been starting to sweat.   
“Great! I’m starving, let’s go,” Greg said, grinning. He resisted the temptation to loop his arm around Mycroft’s.   
_Good to know: two options maximum in future._

The restaurant was a favourite of the officers from NSY, and so it was not unusual for two men to sit and enjoy a meal together. Given the time, it was also not too busy. They took a seat near the back and started to look over their menus.   
“You just gotta go up to the counter to place your order,” Greg said before Mycroft would start looking for a waiter.   
“Ah. Very well.”  
“What are you thinking you’ll get?”  
“I’m not sure yet.”  
“I usually go for the green curry. I love it.”   
Mycroft hummed a response, and continued to look at his menu. He decided on getting the chicken salad.   
“Why’d you get a salad?” Greg asked once they’d returned from ordering. He was instantly remorseful of his question, seeing the expression on Mycroft’s face go from dread to panic and back again rapidly.   
_No, Greg… he has weight issues, remember? Don’t ask questions like that! Quick, say something clever…  
_ “It’s just I mean, you can get salad anywhere but like you can’t get a Thai curry anywhere. Is it uniquely Thai somehow?”  
“Yes,” Mycroft answered hesitantly, “it’s got the same array of flavours as standard Thai cuisine.” He was glad that Greg had expanded upon his question allowing for an answer that didn’t revolve around the calories involved.   
“Ah well that’s good then. I was thinking it’d be like those people that go to Italian places and order the bowl of chips or something.” Greg grinned casually, hoping to make the tone of conversation lighter than what it almost was.   
“Hardly; that is an atrocity.”  
“No argument from me mate. So, how was your day?”  
“Adequate.”  
“Is that politician speak for boring as hell and you wish you weren’t there but no disasters happened so you can’t complain?”  
“Perhaps,” Mycroft answered with a sly grin. Greg chuckled in response, which made Mycroft feel warm inside. “And yours?”  
“Well the case was pretty gnarly, but nothing especially different I guess. I won’t go into details or you won’t feel like eating anything.”  
“I assure you I have a strong stomach, Gregory, and would not be deterred from my meal by discussing widely accepted ‘inappropriate’ dinner conversation.”   
“Good to know! I’m still not going to talk about it though,” Greg said with a wink. Mycroft blushed in response, and Greg found it utterly adorable.   
_This is good, Suits, you’re doing well… keep talking calmly.  
_ “Perhaps a wise decision. We have other patrons whom may eavesdrop to consider.”  
“Bugger them; if they’re gonna listen in on other people’s conversations, they deserve what’s coming to them.”   
“There is merit to your thoughts, I admit. However the smell of vomit is especially off-putting to me, so I would argue that discretion would be in our own interests.”   
“Very true,” Greg mumbled through a mouthful of water, “and so it’s a good thing I am gonna keep my mouth shut.”   
“I would appreciate you do so whilst you have food and drink in it as well,” Mycroft said, and then was overwhelmed with panic regarding what he’d just said. He didn’t feel like he’d gotten to know the other man well enough to make requests such as that, and was anxiously awaiting the scything comment in return.   
“Noted, sorry. Thanks for telling me… I forget I do it sometimes. The curse of being alone most of your meals, eh?” Greg gave a warm smile to reassure Mycroft is was ok to have said what he did, since he’d obviously panicked.   
_Good progress, Suits._

Their food arrived and they ate in silence to begin with, both being rather hungry. They then drifted into some light conversation, and Greg was glad to see Mycroft relax more. He willingly offered topics of conversation once he’d seen that Greg was open to discussing things he brought up. Greg was sure to slip in praises for being so bold as to disagree in their opinions, or to change topics… he felt it was important for Mycroft to get feedback that what he was doing was good and normal in conversations. Again, time slipped away unnoticed once they’d gotten into a rhythm of talking and Mycroft became comfortable with conversing. They decided to call it a night, and stood to leave. Greg had to physically stop himself from hugging Mycroft and giving him a kiss. The thing was… Mycroft had appeared like he wouldn’t have objected. 


	11. Chapter 11

Mycroft sat on his bed with his phone in his hand. He felt conflicted. He had honestly enjoyed his time out with Greg, but had sensed that the man was feeling a little more than just friendship towards him. At first Mycroft had wondered if Greg was only willing to put up with him to shag him and then never talk to him again. Then he’d thought that Greg was just taking pity on him and trying to be friendly. That changed again when Greg had wanted to have dinner, and Mycroft felt confused at the strange atmosphere between them. It was like Greg wanted to just be friends, but wanted a lot more as well but wasn’t going to do anything about it. He’d tried to hide it, rather well, but Mycroft was exceptionally observant and couldn’t be fooled. Strangely enough, he wasn’t conflicted over Greg’s intentions towards him; he was conflicted because he felt like he would be cheating on Pint if he let himself feel attraction to the alluring policeman. He’d not agreed to date Pint, he’d never even met the man… and yet, as he felt the strange impulses of physical attraction to Greg nearing the end of their evening, he felt like he would be cheating to do anything but shove those emotions he’d coined ‘for Pint only’. It left him baffled as to when exactly he’d deemed that all affectionate and loving emotions were strictly for Pint.

The question was now, how to move forward. Greg seemed happily contented to remain friends, even if there was something lingering in the background (he wasn’t about to dig into why Greg was preventing himself from pursuing his interests; that seemed an unnecessary self-flagellation for the moment). Mycroft had fallen completely for Pint, and committed himself entirely to the man he knew only through his phone. He couldn’t dismiss his feelings any longer stating the ridiculous nature of the situation — not now that it was affecting him like it was regarding his interactions with other people. He felt like he should say something to Pint. But the question was not only _what_ , but _how._ He’d been sitting on the bed, phone in hand, for an hour already.   
“Maybe… maybe just a conversation? Bring it up there? What did Greg say… lead into things or something?” Mycroft muttered to himself. He took a deep breath, and unlocked the screen. 

_Suits_ : Pint, I have gotten back from the dinner with Greg. 

_There. That opens up the conversation and I can try and steer it into somewhere that would be better to start talking about my feelings. Shit. Talking about my feelings? How… how am I supposed to do that?  
_ Mycroft recognised he was headed for a mild panic attack, and so tried to just get a control of his breathing. He closed his eyes and focused entirely on breathing in and out, like he’d practiced. It wasn’t a bad one, this time, and so just the regular breathing helped. He cursed himself, and his body, for reacting to simple things with such vigour. 

_Pint:_ Glad to hear it. Were you out until just now?  
 _Suits:_ No, the dinner ended and hour and a half ago.   
_Pint:_ Ok, I just wondered how you were going is all. Did you have a good time?  
 _Suits:_ I did, thank you.   
_Pint:_ That’s great! My social Suits, conquering his fears. I’m happy for you.   
_Suits:_ I would hardly call two interactions as becoming ‘social’.   
_Pint:_ Well, I do. It’s significantly more than you had before so I count it as the start of a social life.   
_Suits:_ I concede that you have a point.   
_Pint:_ Do you want to tell me about it? You don’t have to, of course. 

It was the perfect introduction to the conversation he wanted to have. He had to calmly explain how he noticed Greg’s behaviour and intentions or desires, and how he felt the attraction returned. He then would state that he felt like he couldn’t do anything about it because he felt dedicated to Pint and his love for him was too important to screw up, and therefore wanted to try having a relationship. He took a deep breath and held the phone with shaking hands.   
_It’s ok, just explain it all calmly and rationally, Mycroft._

_Suits:_ I’m yours. 

_Bugger.  
_ Mycroft blinked at the words, unbelieving that he’d just typed them. Where had that even come from? What was Pint going to say? 

_Pint_ : Hehe, good to know. I’m yours too. Any particular reason you wanted to tell me, or is there a meaning behind it? 

_Well, that’s a much better reaction than I anticipated._

_Suits_ : I … ok, so Greg looked like he was interested in me, physically, and I admit I am attracted to him as well. But when it seemed like he was going to stop hiding it, I realised that I felt like I was cheating on you for it… and realised that I was yours. I want you, Pint, and I can’t deny that you have an impact on my life — all of my life — anymore. You have expressed desire to ‘date’ me, and I have objected purely on basis of my anxieties and asocial behaviours. If anything, Greg’s attempt at friendship has shown that it is possible to be successfully social, and I would like to try doing so with you. I’m still nervous, I am… I don’t know how to do this online dating thing, and you know I don’t have experience with relationships. You’ll have to be patient, and I have a lot to learn, no doubt, but I want to try because I can’t think of anyone but you. 

Mycroft panted heavily after typing it as if he’d just carved the words in stone and hurled the boulder across London. He’d never been so bold before, and it was eating his insides away in worry over what the response would be. His mind told him it was ok, that Pint had already said often he wanted to try dating Mycroft; but it was new territory and taking that chance, even if he knew it’d be taken well, was terrifying. His heart pounded as he saw the notification that Pint was typing a response. 

_Pint:_ That’s wonderful! I’m really glad. Having a friend has definitely helped you, and in short time too. Are you sure you’re ok with this? I want to date you, Suits, I really do… I don’t want to force you into something that makes you uncomfortable though. We can take it slowly, ok? You can get used to the idea of meeting people and having a social life and have me to talk to from a distance and get used to the idea of having a boyfriend. We can meet up after you’re ok with how that is and you’re ready for it, yeah? 

Relief flooded Mycroft’s body. Yes, he was scared and he was so very grateful for Pint’s understanding. He wanted to wrap him in a hug, but only a virtual one — physical contact was still too much, even as a concept. The tension in his body faded away once he’d seen that Pint was not only receptive to the idea, but was considerate. He wanted to go slowly, he wanted to keep things virtual until Mycroft was ready for more… Mycroft didn’t know how to thank the man. Taking the first step into admitting he wanted to pursue a relationship was one thing, but he’d not really considered the implications of it until after he’d taken it. He nodded gently to himself. 

_Suits:_ That sounds perfect. Thank you for being so considerate, dear. Really. You were right in saying I was scared as to what my admission meant for the progression of our relationship.   
_Pint:_ I enjoy being with you. I like to take it slowly and get to know you, really get to know you. I want you to be comfortable. Anyone who is happy for you to be uncomfortable with the status quo of a relationship shouldn’t be in a relationship with you.   
_Suits:_ Thank you. Might I ask of you to perhaps enquire as to my emotional status at times? I am aware I might be very hesitant to speak up if I am uncomfortable; and therefore knowing my upset would cause you distress, I believe I should ask this of you now.   
_Pint:_ Very acceptable. I will ask, of course, but don’t think I won’t notice if you’re uncomfortable, either. I know you, Suits… of course I’ll consider you. I imagine that this conversation has exhausted you (see, I know you!) and so I’m telling you to lay down and get some rest (because, I know you and you’re on your phone sitting on the bed).   
_Suits:_ That is eerie. I will comply.   
_Pint:_ I’m not a Borg, I’m just suggesting for your own comfort.   
_Suits:_ How can I be sure? You could be accessing the hive mind and observing me right now.   
_Pint:_ Oh no, you have caught me. I must assimilate you now.   
_Suits:_ You would not be able to! I would flee this location before you got here.   
_Pint:_ Resistance is futile. I can get in a transwarp corridor, and be there instantly!  
 _Suits:_ You know as well as I that you can’t go to transwarp within a planet’s atmosphere.   
_Pint:_ No, you just _shouldn’t_. Risk of death and all that. But I’m a drone, I don’t fear death!   
_Suits:_ You are doing a marvellous job of selling yourself as a boyfriend.   
_Pint:_ I know you’re being sarcastic, but I actually am. I’m fun and I’ve stopped you panicking, haven’t I?   
_Suits_ : Indeed you have. You must have been a doctor before you were assimilated.   
_Pint:_ Haha, maybe. I’ll be your Carson if you’ll be my Rodney :3   
_Suits:_ Are we still Borg drones in this scenario?  
 _Pint:_ Depends on how much of a cyborg kink you have.   
_Suits:_ What?! None, I assure you. You have a filthy mind, Pint.   
_Pint:_ I know you love it. No one ever played with crude humour with you before, and you like being a part of it now even if you get grossed out sometimes.   
_Suits:_ At what point are you going to cease telling me about myself with alarming accuracy?  
 _Pint:_ Well you told me that last tidbit a few weeks ago when I sent you that BDSM fic, so that’s not all me there.   
_Suits:_ Indeed I did. Thank you, Pint, for that. I now have to sleep imagining those contraptions Rodney found.   
_Pint:_ I want the buzzing prostate one.   
_Suits:_ GOODNIGHT.  
 _Pint:_ Hahah, sorry. Goodnight. 

Mycroft smiled to his phone. Pint had successfully stopped his anxiety in its tracks, and proceeded to make him laugh. He couldn’t deny that he did actually enjoy talking about sexual things with Pint — it was fun, and he’d never had anyone he could do that with before. It had seemed like such a taboo topic in the past, but Pint’s carefree attitude towards it helped him come out of his shell and test the waters a little.   
He lay down and turned off the light. Really, it had been a good day. 

~

Greg knocked on the door to Kim and Beth’s apartment. It was Saturday afternoon, and he’d been invited over for tea. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been asked around for tea, instead of for drinks, and so wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was. He’d brought some flowers instead of some wine. Beth answered the door with a grin, and Greg quickly shuffled inside so that the chance of a neighbour’s peeping eye in the stairwell didn’t catch him going into a naked woman’s apartment and get ideas.   
“Greg, you didn’t have to bring flowers… you didn’t have to bring anything,” Beth said, despite taking the flowers off him with a grin.   
“I didn’t know what ‘tea’ involved… my mates aren’t as sophisticated as you two. Still, I thought you’d appreciate them… being plant genitalia to ogle.”   
“Why would we want them because of that?” Beth screwed her face in confusion and looked uncertainly at the flowers.   
“Uh,” Greg groaned, realising he hadn’t said the joke right. “I don’t think I said that right. Mycroft made it sound hilarious… something about plant genitalia on display but everyone likes flowers and they’re on old lady cards but you don’t see naked women as an innocent thing—”  
“Greg, relax; you’re rambling. It’s all fine. Go join Kim in the lounge and I’ll get the tea ready.” 

Greg greeted Kim and sat on the sofa. He looked up at the large printed canvas hanging over the telly, and broke into a grin.   
“Whoa, that’s lovely! That’s you and Beth, right?”   
“Yeah, that’s from the nudist horse riding trip I told you about,” Kim said, looking up at the picture fondly.   
“You could have that as a professionally sold picture.” Greg was honest if not eloquent; it did really look like one of those artistic photographs. It was of Kim and Beth, holding hands as they walked into a forest, each leading their horse beside them. They were both naked, of course, but as they were photographed from behind it was purely artistic. Greg didn’t know much about art, but he could tell that the tones were well balanced (in his opinion) — Kim’s chestnut horse matching Beth’s dark complexion perfectly, and Beth’s dapple grey suiting Kim’s fair skin just as well.   
“Thanks, we do love it.”  
“Do you own the horses?”  
“No, we just borrowed them for the trip. Both mares, and they were lovely; they had such placid temperaments.”   
Greg looked at the picture a little more, and Beth brought in the tea. There were some biscuits and scones, with cream and jam on the platter.   
“I think I like having tea with you guys,” Greg said, helping himself to a scone. He sat with his cup and treat, taking a large bite.   
“So Greg, how’s things with your friend?”  
“Oh, brillian’,” Greg mumbled with a mouthful. He swallowed before continuing. “Suits wants to try dating me now! So yeah, I officially have a boyfriend.”   
“And does he know who you are now?”  
“Um…”  
“You have to tell him, young man!” Beth scolded.   
“I am _older_ than you!” Greg exclaimed, waving his hands about in the air.   
“Fine, as you wish… you have to tell him, _old_ man!”   
“No, no, actually I prefer it the other way,” Greg said, giggling into his tea. “I meant you shouldn’t tell me off.”   
“Beth’ll scold anyone; she was born a mother hen,” Kim added affectionately. She reached out and took Beth’s hand in her own. “Seriously, though, Greg… the longer you continue with this whole charade, the more it’ll feel like you were manipulating him in some kind of sick game.”  
“I’m just trying to help him.”   
“I know, sweetie, but you have to look at it through Mycroft’s eyes. The only person to ever have shown him interest for a relationship turns out also to be the only person to want to be his friend? He’ll think you’re making fun of him, that you weren’t serious… and more importantly, he’ll feel like he actually can’t make friends because it was all a ploy done with ulterior motives,” Beth explained calmly, with a concerned look on her face.   
“I know, I’m just… I am worried about that, I really am… but I honestly think he’ll be happier this way. He was too terrified to try letting himself be happy and trusting another person.”  
“Yes, and while it’s good that he’s realising it’s possible for him to interact with others positively, that it’s ok to be him and all… but that’s the thing: you said he was terrified to trust anyone. How do you think he’ll feel when he finds out the only time he has trusted someone, they break it?”  
“Beth… I’m not breaking his trust! I’m just… not expected to be the same person.”  
“It’ll feel like a betrayal that you didn’t tell him from the start, dearie. That you continued to interact with him knowing and not telling him is like you didn’t trust him to know who _you_ were. You have to be really careful, Greg. It’s all well and good that you have kind, honest intentions and want to just try and make him happy… but this has the potential to have a very bad outcome. Not just in the sense of not having a relationship anymore, but I’m honestly worried about what this will do to his mental health.” 

Greg stopped talking and thought about Beth’s words. She was right in that the potential downfalls for Mycroft, Suits, was a lot worse than it would be for him. Greg would just be hurt and upset that he didn’t have his best friend-come-boyfriend anymore; but Mycroft might be psychologically traumatised for life. The thought sent chills down his spine and he felt like expelling the scone he’d just eaten. It had seemed like the best option to start with… and while it might have been objectively the only way to try and get Suits to open up and be accepting of a relationship — Suits had told him that when saying he wanted to try being his boyfriend — it still left Greg in a position of handling a very delicate situation. Now that he’d achieved ‘phase one — friendship’, and ‘phase two — relationship’ (god, it did sound like a sick game, didn’t it?), Greg had to work out how to do ‘phase three — reveal’ without disaster. He’d honestly thought he’d have more time to work it out: Suits had been more forthcoming with a relationship than he’d anticipated.   
He put his empty tea cup back on the table with a slightly shaking hand. “Help me work out what to do,” he asked with a tone of terror in his voice.   
“We’ll help, but ultimately I think it has to be your decision,” Kim said. Beth nodded in agreement.   
“You’re the one that has a feel for him. That’s worth a lot more than you might think — your gut instinct might be best. Of course, you’re a bloke, so your gut instinct might be an idiot.”  
“Oi! Sexist!” Greg feigned offence, but winked at them.   
“He’s a gay bloke, love; his gut instinct might be more in-tuned to emotions,” Kim said in jest, grinning at Greg the whole time.   
“Let’s assume my gut isn’t an idiot and hear what it has to say.”  
“If it’s first words are ‘beer’, then we’ll take over from there.” Beth laughed hard, and ended up spilling jam on her chest. “Oh, my.”

Greg said nothing how what he was watching could have been the start of a porn video; with Kim reaching over and wiping up the jam off Beth’s chest before she could put her tea cup down to do it herself, and then sucking the jam off her finger. He honestly felt overjoyed that the couple felt comfortable enough with him there to behave as themselves, without fear that things they did would be seen as sexual. Greg knew that lesbians often were given a hard time by men who thought that they could show them what it was like to be with a man to ‘cure’ them of lesbianism, without caring for the women involved’s opinions or wants… or simply just be into girl-on-girl action and not give a toss if their advances were welcomed. He’d no doubt feel skittish around men if he was a lesbian.  
“It’s not. It’s actually ‘scones’, so it’s very smart,” Greg said, grabbing another scone.   
“If you say so. In honesty though, have you thought about where to go from here?”   
“Really honestly? I haven’t, Kim, no,” Greg said, and took a bite of his second scone. “I thought I’d have more time. Suits — Mycroft — is very smart, and so I think just being completely open and blunt about it is best. Trying to construct some clever scheme to let him know will just make him very suspicious and his mind will jump to the wrong conclusions. I also don’t feel like it’s a good idea to hint at things so he’ll work it out on his own. There’s only two ways that will end up: he’ll freak out and think I don’t know, and then feel betrayed that I actually did but didn’t tell him; or he’ll freak out and be offended I didn’t tell him straight out instead of leaving little hints. Fuck, this is terrible…”   
“Greg stay with us,” Beth commanded, seeing Greg start to panic. “Yes, it’s challenging but what you’ve said makes sense and I agree. You’re doing well.”   
Greg knew Beth was using her nursing tricks on him, but he didn’t care. “Yeah, yeah ok. I think it’s something I should treat lightly, actually. I know you have said how serious this is… but I think that if I make it out as a serious thing, he’ll think it’s a serious thing and freak out accordingly. I don’t want that. I would rather him be a bit confused, but have a sense that it’s no big deal, everything is fine. He picks up on tone really easily. If I say something with a stern voice, he like retreats and wants to run even if it’s just me telling him it’s ok to be honest with me. I hope that if a happy ‘all is well’ tone will help him emotionally enough to process the information.”  
“I can see your point, Greg, but I also have to worry that if he sees you take the issue so lightly, so carefree, that he’ll think you’re belittling his feelings. That his shock and reaction isn’t that important for you to consider,” Kim said.   
“I’ll… I’ll have to be sure to let him know otherwise, then. Somehow. I think I’ll not try to over plan it and judge in the moment based on his feelings. And you both are right, it does need to be soon.”  
“Alright, well… I trust you to know best, Greg, but I think I should give you some advice.”  
“I thought all of this was advice, Beth?”  
“I meant medical advice. Specifically: how to help someone during a panic attack.”   
“Yeah, as much as I hope that doesn’t happen, I think it’d be good to know in case,” Greg said, rubbing the back of his neck. He might need to use the information on himself before he went to break the news to Suits. 


	12. Chapter 12

Mycroft tapped on the desk with his pen. He couldn’t concentrate. Greg had extended an invitation to go get drinks with him and his work friends. While he would normally immediately reject the idea, Greg assured him that it was only two other coworkers, that the pub was quiet, and importantly: Greg would really enjoy his company. The previous meetings had gone well, at least eventually, and so it was possible that this event could also have a positive outcome. But his insides churned uncomfortably at the idea of actually going out in public to meet strangers.   
Pint had tried to encourage him to go, stating it’d be good to practice meeting people in public for when they met for dinner. Mycroft couldn’t deny that was a reasonable argument. He knew that the time to meet his new boyfriend was approaching, and he should be prepared for it. The problem was, it felt so far into the future that there wasn’t a pressure to force himself to undertake uncomfortable situations for it. Really, it was only far into the future _because_ it allowed him not to force himself. Still, he knew that the only way to make progress was to get out of his comfort zone.   
“Hey Myc?”  
Mycroft looked up to his boss, perched up on the front of his desk. He must have been really lost in his thoughts not to notice her approach.   
“Yes, Mrs—”  
“Vivian.”  
“Right. Yes, Vivian?”  
“Do you mind helping me out tonight? The hubby is taking me out dancing, and Julia can’t watch the kids. I haven’t had a night out in ages, and I don’t know anyone else that I trust.”  
Mycroft steeled his expression. He hated those kids. They were rude, obnoxious, hyperactive, and idiotic. He minded them once before and he swore never ever again.   
“I’m sorry, Vivian, but I actually have plans to go get drinks with a friend and his mates.”  
“Oh! Myc! I’m so happy for you, getting out like that! Not a problem, I’ll think of something; you go out and have a good time. Maybe catch the eye of a handsome fella,” she hummed before leaning in close and adding quietly, “just let me know if you need the morning off, yeah? You’re only young once.”   
Mycroft stiffened in his chair. “I assure you, I will not partake in anything beyond casual conversation and a beverage or two.”   
Vivian just gave him a smile and a wink, before sauntering off back into her office. Mycroft rolled his eyes at her attitude, but was relieved that he didn’t have to watch the little devils. Then the pit of his stomach dropped. He’d just locked himself into the evening out with Greg. He knew he technically could still not go, and just pretend that he had, but then he would have been lying to his boss and he wasn’t comfortable with that. Professional lies were fine; they were required and completely necessary. Personal lies just made him tense and feel dirty. He preferred to merely say nothing on the subject of personal matters to avoid the conflict of secrecy and honesty. 

He called Greg at midday, when the sergeant had his break, to inform him that he would be in attendance. Apparently he had already technically met the two other officers joining Greg, and despite being slightly hazy in his memory, the fact that they weren’t complete strangers settled some of his nerves. Sally Donovan and Charlie Dimmock. He wasn’t sure how they felt about meeting with him, given his cold attitude when visiting the Yard, but considering they knew he was going to be there and didn’t back out must indicate they were amenable to his presence, at least.

~

Greg picked Mycroft up from his office, and they took a taxi to the pub. He’d picked the one closer to his apartment because he knew it was quieter than the one near the Yard. He wanted to try and make Mycroft as comfortable as possible, and part of that was reducing the ambient noise as much as possible. The Hammer and Nail was, coincidentally, perfect in that regard: dimly lit, quiet, with lots of booths tucked about for private conversations.   
Sally and Dimmock were meeting them there, and Greg hoped that they’d be late. He wanted to get some conversation in with Mycroft first to try and relax him ready to make a good first impression; he was still very stiff and disinterested-looking despite the attempts at conversation on the ride over. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luck. His coworkers waved at him when they entered, having found a booth near the back. He turned to Mycroft and said he was going to get a drink, and asked if he wanted anything. Unsurprisingly Mycroft elected to join him at the bar and order, and then follow with a drink in hand to the table.   
“Alright, guys? You remember Mycroft, yeah?” Greg announced as he sat in beside Sally. He decided it was best to not present the choice of seating — next to Sally or next to Dimmock — to Mycroft.   
“I remember him taking a case off us,” Sally grunted and took a sip of her drink. Greg’s eyes flickered up to Mycroft to see his reaction. He noticed the jaw clench, and so tried to alleviate the tension.   
“Yeah, but it’s not his fault. He’s just doing what’s asked of him. Blame his boss.”   
“Mycroft — your boss a tosser?”  
“That would be one such way to describe her, yes,” Mycroft responded to Dimmock’s question hesitantly.   
“Alright, ’s good enough for us, I guess,” he chuckled and took a swing of his beer. “Welcome to the ‘I do shit cause my boss is a tosser’ club.”   
“I take it you have had to act unfavourably because of your superior’s instructions?”  
“Myc,” Sally chuckled, “you can drop the formal attitude. We’re not really havin’ a go at you.”  
“Mycroft, if you please,” Mycroft bit out.   
Greg tried to smile supportingly to Mycroft, who was starting to look overwhelmed already.   
_You can do this, Suits. Deep breaths, and just focus on me. It’ll be ok.  
_ “Sure,” Greg answered for Sally. “We don’t really make a big deal over names or formality. We call Charlie here Dimmock all the time. He hates his first name.”   
“You dislike Charles?” Mycroft asked, interested. “I believe it is a much more comfortable name than many I have encountered, generally speaking. I assume there a particular reason behind it, then?”   
“Just hated it. Me Da’d always sneer at me callin’ me Charles, ’n I was bullied a lot in school for bein’ the tiny kid and they’d all call me Teeny Charlie.”   
“Unfortunate. However you do realise you can legally change it without issue, don’t you?”  
Greg beamed over the rim of his glass.   
_That’s it Suits, just have a conversation without worrying about all that other stuff. Just find something to talk about and do it like that. No one’s going to be hating you for talking about some topic they dislike.  
_ “Eh,” Dimmock grunted and shrugged. “Never really been bothered enough to do anything about it, not when everyone just calls me Dimmock anyway. So why don’t you like Myc?”  
“It — indicates a level of intimacy that I am uncomfortable with,” Mycroft admitted, his cheeks flushing. “Also it tends to be used by those whom do not respect me enough to speak the entirety of my name despite having been asked, and thus picks up an unsavoury tone.”  
“I can understand that,” Sally said with a smile. “I bet your mother always made it sound condescending too.”   
“Astute observation, Ms Donovan — er, Sally.”   
“Still, Mycroft’s a bit unusual.”  
“I prefer to think of it as unique.”  
“Well that it is, just like you,” Greg jumped in with, hearing the start of Mycroft’s defensive tone. He didn’t want him to snap at Sally — she’d snap back with a force that would send Mycroft running, and she’d think it just normal conversation. Sally was a bit argumentative at the best of times. “You see, Mycroft’s a genius. Like, a proper one, I mean.”   
“Really? What you doin’ workin’ as someone’s PA then?” Dimmock asked.   
“One must start at the bottom, regardless of ability. It is not easy to work for a woman whose intelligence barely surpasses that of the makeup she wears. Perhaps that’s why she attempts to smear so much of it on her face?”   
The three cops burst out laughing. Greg’s eyes shone, but he dared not look at Mycroft lest it become clear how proud he was. 

Mycroft took more an observational role as conversation progressed, but he was glad that it was not unusual. Sally and Dimmock talked with Greg about work a fair bit, he noted. They were as bad at switching off as he was, it seemed. Occasionally he’d offer a tidbit of information to assist their cases, and they seemed thankful for it. It wasn’t until a group of young women sat at the table nearby that the conversation turned away from professional matters.   
“Oooh, you should go introduce yourself, Dimmock,” Sally crooned.   
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he responded shyly.   
“Why not? Gotta get out there, mate. I know you’re shy and all, but you’re a good cop and girls like that.”  
“I guess, but they’re in a large group…”  
“I understand your hesitance, Dimmock,” Mycroft said. “Don’t try while you’re uncomfortable; they will read that on your person easily and their reactions would only serve to reinforce your nerves.”   
“Ha!” Dimmock exclaimed, “See, it’s now genius-certified _not_ to go up to a group of women.”   
“Oh come on!” Sally insisted, and Dimmock looked over to the group with a mix of attraction and terror.   
“Why aren’t you forcing Greg?”   
“Greg’s gay,” she answered nonchalantly. Dimmock’s eyebrows lifted.   
“What? No, he’s been on plenty of dates with women.”   
“Oi, quit talking about me like I’m not even here!”  
Ignoring him, Sally continued. “Yeah, but they were all me trying to set him up thinking he was straight, and him being too polite to say anything. Or too scared.”   
“I wasn’t scared, I just wanted to see how long it took for you to get it. And I’m not 100% gay, either, I’ll occasionally like a girl.”  
“Great! So come over to say hello with me.”  
“No, I’m not interested in any of them,” Greg said without even looking. He wasn’t lying, though.   
“Greeeeg, come on… I want to get a date.”  
“Nope, sorry mate.” Greg smiled as he relaxed backwards into the booth.   
“Fine. Alright, Mycroft, you’re up.”  
“What’s this now?” Mycroft’s attention had wavered, but snapped right back to the conversation.   
“You, me, and the bunch of girls.”   
“No, that sounds positively dastardly.”   
Greg sniggered to himself at Mycroft’s reaction, and at the thought of Dimmock learning that both of them were gay. His smile fell when he realised that they were suddenly headed into very dangerous waters.   
“How come? Don’t tell me you don’t like women either? Or are you already taken?”   
_Oh shit, hit an iceberg already. Red alert! Greg, say something! Quick!  
_ “Uhh, I guess I could go charm them up for you. I don’t need any of their numbers but you could still get one,” Greg offered in a mouthful.   
_Yes, that should be a good life boat to avoid drowning in frigid waters of deception.  
_ “Mycroft can come too so there’s more numbers. So, what’s your answer? Gay? Taken? Or just scared?”  
_Oh fuck, I have to get this under control before Dimmock sends me to a watery grave. Why the hell did I think this was a good idea?  
_ “Yes,” Mycroft answered simply, and took a sip of his whiskey. He was pleased that it got a laugh from Greg and Sally.   
“How’s this: you and I go get you shot down, and Mycroft’ll get you a lager to drown your sorrows from the rejection?” Greg laughed nervously, but hoped it came across as in jest.   
“You’re not helping my confidence,” Dimmock grumbled, but made to get out of the booth. Mycroft stood to permit him exit, and strolled over to the bar to fetch the aforementioned larger. 

Greg couldn’t really concentrate on what he was saying while talking to the girls, but he figured it at least made Dimmock look like more of a catch.   
_I gotta tell him soon. Like, really soon. This can’t keep going on. I’ll slip up and he’ll use it as an evidence of my malicious intent when really I’m just an idiot. That all was too close. Fuck, I need another drink. He seems to have managed meeting Sally and Dimmock well, so perhaps it’s time to ask him out. I don’t want the relationship to end; as new as it is, I love typing snuggly things to him at night or asking how his day is going. But what if he doesn’t trust me enough to do that anymore anyway? What the hell is going to happen? I know I gotta say something soon, but that’s like anticipating getting stabbed and it’s even worse for Mycroft since he’s gonna be—  
_ “Greg, you alright?”   
Greg shook his head as he returned to his surroundings. He’d stopped talking mid sentence, apparently, and had instead started panicking. He felt a little shaky, but tried hard to hide it. His frantic breathing wasn’t so easy to hide, and suddenly he felt all eyes on him. That only made it worse. Is this what Mycroft felt like all the time? Shit, no wonder he avoided social situations.   
“Yeah, sorry… I need some air,” Greg muttered, before walking out of the pub. He leant against the wall just down from the door, and took in a deep breath. Fuck it, he thought, and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it just as Mycroft exited through the doors and looked about for him.   
“Gregory, are you alright?”  
“Hey, Myc. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that to happen. I didn’t mean to leave you in their on your own.”  
“It’s quite alright. However, I must point out, that I don’t believe what you are doing counts as ‘getting some air’,” Mycroft chuckled as he indicated to Greg’s smoke.   
“Oi, I said air; I never said it had to be fresh. Polluted air is still air.”  
“Touché,” Mycroft said, and leant against the wall with him. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
“No, I really don’t,” Greg answered honestly. “Thank you for offering, though.”  
Mycroft inclined his head and looked out towards the road. “I like you, Greg. You’re a good friend. I could tell you were trying hard to help me with conversation today. I appreciate it.”   
“Tell me honestly: have you enjoyed yourself?”  
“I actually have, thank you.”  
“Then it’s all worth it,” Greg said with a soft smile. He didn’t explain what ‘all’ entailed. “I think I’m going to call it a night, if it’s alright with you.” Greg sighed after taking a drag.   
“Perfectly acceptable. You— you have my number, should you wish to contact me.”  
“Thanks, Myc. And you know something? I’m really glad you don’t mind me calling you Myc.”  
“It’s not uncomfortable when you do,” Mycroft said fondly, aware his heart was aching for him to reach out and touch Greg. He cleared his throat. “I shall bid you goodnight, then. I believe it’s polite to also say farewell to the remainder of our company.”   
“Yeah, I’ll stick my head in and shout goodbye too in a minute. Thanks for coming out, Myc. I’ll see you again soon.”

Greg watched as Mycroft went back into the pub for a moment, before leaving with a smile. Greg gave him a quick wave as he finished off his cigarette. He rubbed the back of his neck and went to say bye to his mates.   
“So, you kiss him?” Sally asked as Greg walked back to the table.   
“What?”  
“Come on, Greg, it’s obvious you’re completely besotted with him.” Sally winked at him.   
“It’s that obvious?”  
“Not to me!” Dimmock protested. “But what do I know? Nothing, apparently,” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.   
“Don’t mind him, he’s just grumpy cause he struck out. You should ask him out, Greg. I think he’d like it.”   
“How do you know, Sal? He never said if he was taken or gay or anything.”   
“Oh come on Dimmock, you want to be a detective! He’s obviously gay; I mean, you sat next to him for the last two hours, you have to have noticed.”   
“ _Him_ you notice?” Greg asked with a frown, deciding to sink into the chair next to Dimmock.   
“ _He’s_ obvious about it, what can I say? But that’s beside the point. You like him enough to bring him to meet your mates, so why don’t you actually do something about it?”  
Greg’s heart started pounding again at the thought of doing what he had to do about it. He felt the breath get squeezed from his chest. “I… have to go,” Greg strangled out, and stood.   
“I think it’s a bit late to chase after him, mate,” Sally joked.   
Greg just shook his head at her, and left. He had to try doing something about it now. 


	13. Chapter 13

_Pint:_ Suits? Are you there?  
 _Suits:_ Yes, I am here. Is everything ok?  
 _Pint:_ I wanted to ask how you felt about your evening tonight.   
_Suits:_ It went exceptionally well, I believe. I remained there, by choice, for over two hours. I didn’t feel I needed to flee and hide in panic. I conversed with Gregory’s friends without incident. It was surprising, but a welcomed change.   
_Pint:_ I told you that you could do it.   
_Suits:_ Gregory assisted me, and I am grateful to him.   
_Pint:_ About that, Suits…  
 _Suits:_ Don’t worry, Pint. I love you. I’m not going to cheat on you with Gregory.  
 _Pint:_ Well, that’s impossible so I wasn’t worried. No, that’s not what I wanted to say. I just, I’m not sure how to say it.   
_Suits:_ You think it impossible that I would cheat, or that I could?  
 _Pint:_ No that’s — I don’t think you would do that, it’s not you. I am not saying no one would want to be with you. Not at all. But we’re getting off topic.   
_Pint:_ I need to say something, and I think I should now.  
 _Pint:_ I’m … I want to tell you… but you have to try be calm about it…   
_Suits:_ Pint, take a deep breath and release it through your nose. You are obviously worked up about something, and it concerns me.   
_Pint:_ Thanks, that helped. No, yeah… no, um, yeah… you’re right I guess.   
 _Suits:_ You have made so many contradictions that you’ve confused me already, and you haven’t actually said anything yet.   
 _Pint:_ Sorry. I’m just… I want the best possible outcome, you know? I want to do this right. I want to make this as good as it can be for you. And me, obviously, but you always come first for me, Suits. You know that, right?  
 _Suits:_ Of course. I think I know what you are struggling with.   
_Pint:_ I - I doubt it.   
_Suits:_ You wish to meet.   
_Pint:_ Well, yes, obviously!   
_Suits_ : And you wish to ask me to meet you soon, in light of my success at the pub tonight. You are worried about pushing me, though. I appreciate your concern as always, dear, but I think it’s ok.   
_Pint_ : …What? Are you sure? You actually want to meet with me? Like, on a dinner date?  
 _Suits:_ I was able to be comfortable around people that I knew to a far lesser degree. I don’t wish to delay and potentially create anxiety for myself in building up the situation in my mind.   
_Pint:_ I guess that makes sense. I’m just a bit shocked. When were you thinking?  
 _Suits:_ Perhaps next week? I have a day off planned, and so it would be opportune to have a day of potential recovery following our meeting. I am not saying that to mean I expect it to go badly, however I must be rational and reasonable about the possibilities regarding my reaction.   
_Pint:_ So soon? No, no I get that having a day will be good for you. We can either cuddle together in the morning, stay out late, regain some lost energy, or recover from overwhelming stress… depending on how it goes. I’m not offended. Honestly, I think having a day afterwards is a very, very good idea.   
_Suits:_ I am glad you are in agreement. I have a day off on Wednesday, therefore Tuesday evening will be opportune for a dinner date.  
 _Pint:_ You’ve certainly gained some confidence. That’s great, really. Shit, that’s really soon.   
_Suits:_ I had not thought that would be an issue for you.   
_Pint:_ It’s not. Honestly. Sooner the better! Listen, I have to make a phone call now so I’ll be away for a bit but I will tell you when I’m going to bed for cuddles, ok?  
 _Suits:_ I am still astonished I am participating in virtual cuddles, and actually enjoying it. I shall await your message. 

Greg let the phone drop from his hand.  
_Fuck fuck fuck. Tuesday? Four fucking days’ time?_  
Given that he’d just chickened out on being upfront about it over the phone then, he knew he had to work on getting the courage to say something before they met. Possibly. Saying something now could be seen as him making a joke of it all, couldn’t it? ‘ _Surprise! Joke’s on you; I got you to agree to meet me_ ’? He at least wasn’t lying to Mycroft when he said he needed to make a phone call. He picked up the phone and rang Kim.   
“Greg?”  
“Kim! MycroftwentouttothepubandendjoyeditandnowwantstomeetinfourfuckingdaysandI’mfreakingout!”   
“Whoa, Greg, slow down! I didn’t get a word of that! Breathe! Now, start again.”  
“Mycroftwenttothe—”  
“No no, you’re still talking a million miles an hour. Do I need to wake Beth? Remember what she told you. Count and breathe.”  
Greg obliged, and then waited a minute before starting again. “Sorry. Ok. So, Mycroft came out to the pub with me, Sally, and Dimmock tonight. I wanted to try show him he could meet strangers and get along with them just fine, so it wasn’t just me that he was able to get along with.” He paused and took another breath. “It went great; so well that Mycroft wants to actually meet me. He’s gotten confident enough and has a day off coming up next week so he can use that to recover if it’s stressful, which I understand… but that’s in four days, Kim. I have four days and the shit hits the fan. I tried to tell him tonight, I really did… but I just couldn’t. I chickened out. Now I either have to tell him over the weekend, which will seem… bad, somehow, that I actually know who he is after him agreeing to meet… or he drops dead from a heart attack in the restaurant the moment he walks in.”   
“Well, this is a turn up, isn’t it,” Kim muttered. “I’m sorry Greg but I don’t have a suggestion for you.”  
“I-I think I honestly just needed to hear a friend to try calm down. I mean, I’ll think of something — I have to.”  
“Understandable. Well, it’s pretty late and I have to be up early, Greg, and you sound like you could use a bit of rest.”  
“Oh, um, yeah, sorry. Of course. I didn’t really think of the time.”  
“Goodnight. I’ll try and check in sometime over the weekend when I get a chance.”  
“Oh, right, your trip. Have a good time. Don’t worry, I’ll work it out. Have a good time, and give my best to Beth. Goodnight.” 

Greg curled up in bed, and pulled the phone up close.   
_Pint:_ *hugs* Hey, Suits. I’m ready for bed now.   
_Suits:_ *cuddle* As am I.   
_Pint:_ I keep imagining you here with me, just laying beside me, ready to drift off to sleep.   
_Suits:_ I like that idea. I find myself unusually craving physical affection from you.  
_Pint:_ We’ll go slow, Suits. Only what you’re comfortable with. You probably will take to it easily, given how much progress you’ve made with the social stuff. *stroke*  
_Suits:_ Yes. I must reiterate that I will be hesitant at first despite being reciprocative in affection in digital form.  
_Pint:_ It will be completely understandable. Trust me. I’m really exhausted, so I will make this a short goodnight, if that’s ok.  
_Suits:_ Yes, that is quite alright. I find myself rather drained from today’s social activities. Goodnight Pint, I will talk to you tomorrow.  
_Pint:_ Goodnight, Suits.  
_Pint: …  
__Suits:_ ?  
_Pint:_ *kiss*

Greg couldn’t help himself. He had a terrible sense of foreboding, and wanted to kiss Mycroft at least once while he could, in anyway. He didn’t expect Suits to respond, but he couldn’t help but hope that the possibility existed. He locked his screen and put it on the bedside table. Just as he was shuffling to make himself comfortable, his screen illuminated. He picked it up to see a message from Suits. 

_Suits:_ … *kiss*

The smile that broke across Greg’s face was both incredibly big and incredibly sad. He couldn’t help but worry it was not only his first kiss, but his last one. Time would only tell, now. He hoped that letting his mind rest would help to work out what to do about the predicament. 

~

Greg had decided that he would explain in person. It seemed too much to actually be open about the situation now. He still wanted to make it seem like a casual, relaxed thing so that Mycroft picked up on those casual clues. He really only elected to try explain over the phone because of his panic over how close he’d come to danger at the pub, and because he could at least explain it eloquently before sending the message. Since he was going to spring it on Suits in person, he asked to change the meeting location to Mycroft’s office. Suits was hesitant to start with, but Greg had explained that it would be better that way. Suits was in his own environment, somewhere he knew well and had control over, and thus wasn’t overwhelmed by the location as well as the stress of meeting someone. Restaurants were loud and filled with people, and Greg rationalised that it might be too overwhelming all at once. He didn’t say that he wanted Mycroft to have somewhere he felt safe to hide away from the situation to avoid too much anxiety over the shock, and not have to contend with other wandering eyes whilst in public. Suits had thankfully agreed.

It was almost time. Greg had managed to put the fear and anxiety behind him. There was nothing more to be done, now. He was going to walk into that building, look Mycroft in the eye, and be honest. Showing that he was anxious or unsettled wasn’t the emotional state he wanted to convey to Suits. He held an outward appearance of jovial nonchalance, and strolled through the large doors.  
He walked up to the desk where Mycroft sat, obviously nervous, as he was moving things from one side of the desk to the other and back again. The man’s eyes flew up, panicked, but then relaxed upon seeing him. Greg almost thought he saw an exasperated sigh.   
“Hello, Sergeant Lestrade.”  
“Hello, Mr Holmes,” Greg answered with a grin, moving to rest his elbows up on the front of the the desk. “Now that the formality’s out of the way, hi Mycroft.”  
“Yes, hello Gregory. I apologise, however I cannot assist you with professional matters as I have just finished work for the day, nor can I join you for personal activities. I am expecting company.”   
Greg took a deep breath, still looking relaxed but with a ball of lead in his gut. “A dinner date, I know.”   
Mycroft’s eyes blew wide and he frowned at Greg. “How did you…?”  
“Because you asked me on the date, Suits.” 


	14. Chapter 14

Everything froze for Mycroft.   
_No, surely I misheard him. Somehow. No. No, no, no. What? Pint? This… Gregory… was Pint?  
_ His mouth suddenly felt dry. He felt the cold wash over him as the colour drained from his face. He was aware that his body had started shaking. He couldn’t do anything but stare back, jaw agape, to Gregory ‘Pint’ Lestrade. The man didn’t make another move, or another sound, as Mycroft processed what was happening. It was like his brain had crashed, and wanted to start up again in safe-mode, but the error slapped him in the face every time he blinked.   
“Mycroft?”  
The sound of his name seemed to kick his system into reboot, and he shook his head. His eyes flickered across Greg’s person, taking in every detail.   
_He knew. He’s known for some time. Bastard. The complete, utter, manipulative bastard. Was it all a cruel joke? I have to get out of here. I can’t let him see me break down. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know which one - Pint or Greg - is real.  
_ “Mycroft, please say something.”  
Mycroft released an involuntary whimper, and slowly pushed his chair backwards. His heart was pounding, his chest was constricted, and he had the uncontrollable urge to flee.   
“Myc, it’s ok, really…”  
The moment Greg spoke, moving slightly, Mycroft bolted. He was faintly aware of his name being called out loudly behind him, but he couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears. He couldn’t breathe properly. It had been some time since having a panic attack this severe, or this rapidly onset, and Mycroft was thrown. He couldn’t find the headspace to work out what to do; his desperate gasping for breath only making him panic more. He had managed to find himself sitting on the floor, back against the first door he could find. He wrapped his arms around himself as he shook.   
_How could he do this? How could he lie? I let myself care for him, I told him things, I tried hard to be a better person for him. He was just having fun with me. Pretending to care for me so that he could keep playing puppet master over me. God, oh god… what am I going to do? I shared… with both of them… no, the same him…  
_ Mycroft clenched his eyes together as the tears fell uncontrollably amidst the desperate gasping for air. 

Mycroft’s boss had run out of her office at the sound of Mycroft’s name being shouted, to find Greg moving in an attempt to follow him. Greg barely noticed her until she stepped in his way.   
“Sorry, I gotta—”  
“No you are not authorised to go back there,” she interrupted with a frown.  
“Mycroft needs me!”  
“Obviously not. Please leave, sir.”  
“No! He’s run off and having a panic attack alone! I need to help!”  
“Why?”  
“I’m his boyfriend!” Greg was getting impatient now, desperate to shove past the woman, but knew that wouldn’t go down well as the passage was narrow. He would, however, if he couldn’t convince her to stand aside in the next three seconds.   
“I know my staff, and I know that Mycroft does not have, nor has an interest for, a boyfriend.”  
“Please, just let me see him.”   
“Sir if you continue to harass the staff I will call the police and have you escorted from the building.”  
Greg sighed and then an idea struck him at the mention of police. Wondering why he didn’t think of this at the start, he pulled his badge out and shoved it in her face whilst stepping past her. It, at least, shut her up and let him past. He stopped at the door Mycroft had rushed behind, and could hear the gasps of air from the other side. 

“Mycroft? Mycroft are you there?”   
_No… he’s found me. What does he want? To continue his mockery?  
_ “Please, just… listen to me. I’ll explain everything. I promise. I just need you to calm down.”   
_Pint, I need you — the real you — I can’t get enough air and I’m getting dizzy…  
_ “Let me in, Mycroft. You have to try taking deep breaths for me.”   
_If I could, Liar, then I would be! How could it turn out like this?  
_ “Come on, Myc, you can do this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and you know that I am here to help. It’s me… Pint is me, Myc. Pint is here for you. I’m here for you. We can talk about all that other stuff later. Right now you just have to try taking deep breaths.”  
_You betrayed me. How could I trust you?  
_ “Breathe in for four seconds, Myc. Nice and deep, like this. One, two, three, four. And then out for the same. One, two, three, four.”   
Mycroft obeyed, only because he was genuinely concerned he might pass out. He felt sick to the stomach from all the tension, and hoped that he didn’t need to scramble for a bucket the moment he managed to gain some control over himself. That really would be the icing on the cake of embarrassment.   
“That’s great, you’re doing great, Myc. Just a bit longer.”   
He whimpered at the unspoken ‘until we talk’ part, the dreaded confrontation where he had to sit and listen to how he was lied to, manipulated, mocked…  
“No, Mycroft, keep counting in your head, ok?”   
Greg rested his head on the door. He’d sunken to his knees and rested a hand upon the wood, trying hard to be as close as he could to Mycroft. He squeezed his eyes shut.   
_I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt. I only wanted to help and make you happy._

“How— how could you?” Mycroft croaked, the panic in his chest fading away.   
“You have to believe me when I say that I only wanted to help.”  
“Help? How… how…”  
“Myc, breathe. One thing at a time. You’ve just calmed down a bit; please don’t work yourself up again. Open the door and we can talk slowly, alright?”  
“I-I can’t. I can’t look at you right now. I can’t talk, I can’t…”   
Greg nodded. That was to be expected. He knew it was more that Mycroft physically couldn’t see him, and be looked at in return, while in this frantic state. It’d only make the panic worse again. It was reasonable that Mycroft found he couldn’t speak. Greg sighed. His heart ached with how badly Mycroft was hurting, and he wanted to try ease it. “It’s ok,” he said softly.   
“It’s not,” Mycroft responded. He sniffled. “I want Pint back. The Pint that wouldn’t hurt me. Go. Leave!”   
“I’m still—” Greg wanted to finish the sentence, but knew it would be a lie. He felt a stabbing pain in his chest, but there was no way he was walking away from this. He twisted so that he too was sat on the floor, his back against he door. He liked to think that he was leaning where Mycroft was, and that Mycroft heard him. He took out his phone and pulled out the messaging app. 

_Pint:_ It’s still me, Suits. 

“Mycroft, take out your phone. Will you do that for me?” Greg asked. He heard a groan, then some shuffling.   
“Part of me had hoped it wasn’t real. I guess there’s no denying it now,” Mycroft mumbled sadly. 

_Suits:_ It’s not, though.   
_Pint:_ Please let me explain. I know you can’t talk right now. It’s ok. Type to me instead.   
_Suits:_ I don’t know if I can trust anything you say anymore.   
_Pint:_ That’s ok. But please just listen. Then you can make your own decision after that.   
_Suits:_ I suppose I owe you that much.   
_Pint:_ Thank you.   
_Suits:_ It’s almost funny, to think that this is how it all started.   
_Pint:_ I don’t know what you mean.   
_Suits:_ You, me, text. Me being afraid of talking and you telling me it was all ok. To give you a chance.   
_Pint:_ You have no idea how grateful I am that you took that chance.   
_Suits:_ I am not sure I don’t regret it, at this point.  
 _Pint:_ That’s fair.   
_Suits:_ How could you do it Pint? Or should I say Greg now?   
_Pint:_ I only wanted to try help.  
 _Suits:_ How is building up the only confidence I’ve had only to smash it to pieces helpful? How is making me think I was cared about only to be the subject of a sick joke helpful?   
_Pint:_ It wasn’t a joke. I never tried to ‘make you’ feel cared about… I honestly do care about you. I love you. That hasn’t changed. I wasn’t trying to be mean or evil. I’m just an idiot. Simple as that. I wanted to show you that you could do it — could be social, that you could make friends, that you could be in a relationship. You seemed so unhappy to be so cut off from everyone. I wanted to show you that you don’t have to be that way anymore.  
 _Suits:_ How is lying to me achieving those things?  
 _Pint:_ I never lied to you, Mycroft. I was very careful about that. I omitted truths, and I wasn’t open with you, but I never lied.   
_Suits:_ Excuse me if I don’t thank you for that just yet.  
 _Suits:_ I still don’t understand why you did it, even if those are the things you wished to achieve.   
_Pint:_ I wanted you to be happy. I care about you and ultimately just wanted you to be happy. I thought if you could see that people did like being around you, you’d feel happier. I hoped that I could teach you how to be around others without causing the incidents that made you feel so ostracised and hated.   
_Suits:_ Why simply not tell me and then try help with those aspects? How long have you known, exactly, anyway?  
 _Pint:_ Because I’m an idiot, as we’ve established. I was afraid that if I told you right away, you wouldn’t have the self confidence to want to continue a friendship or relationship. And then I wouldn’t be able to help you at all, as well as lose you. I worked it out when you talked of being upset the policeman you worked with was upset with you, catching you looking at him. Do you remember that message? It was when you said you loved me for the first time, Suits. You told me you couldn’t be alone and that you loved me.   
_Suits:_ That long?   
_Pint:_ I was afraid that if I told you then, that you’d get scared and cut off communication. I wanted you, Mycroft, and the fear of losing you was stronger than sense it seems. I couldn’t bear to think of you forcing yourself to be totally alone again, either. I really didn’t want you to have to feel that way at all. So I decided to try help you realise you didn’t have to be alone. I’m sorry. I really tried not to hurt you. I know it seems like I was malicious, but I honestly was just a stupid git in love trying to help.   
_Suits:_ People do crazy things when they’re in love.   
_Pint:_ ?  
 _Suits:_ A quote from a film you recommended. It seems to be a recurring theme in film and literature; it must stem from some truth.   
_Pint:_ Is this you saying you forgive me?  
 _Suits:_ It’s me saying I understand you aren’t the only one to have acted stupidly when in love. It does give me some assurance that your affections towards me were genuine, in the least.   
_Pint:_ They are, Myc. They still are. I’ll do whatever you need of me to make this right, you know? I get that you’re pissed, I get that you’re hurting and confused from it all. But I don’t want this to be the end of things for us. All I have wanted is to be with you and I will do anything to keep you.   
_Suits:_ You should not make such bold promises.   
_Pint:_ To hell with that. I am. I honestly will. If I need to jump off a bridge for you, I will. For the sake of honesty, which I think is important right not, it’d have to be a bridge I could survive falling off. Only condition.   
_Suits:_ There is no need to go to that extreme. I do not wish you dead, Greg.   
_Pint:_ That’s good. That’s something. I’m taking that as hopeful. You know… it’s good that we can talk like this. You can actually tell me what you’re feeling without getting choked up. And I have at least a little buffer before the stupidity comes pouring out of my mouth. So please, tell me how you’re feeling.   
_Suits:_ … I agree. I doubt I could have coped with this conversation verbally. I feel betrayed still, despite knowing you had good intentions. I feel hurt. I am tentative about trusting you further. I can’t deny that you did succeed in helping me gain confidence to socialise, and that I enjoyed spending time with you in person. I believe I need some time to let things settle. It is all still overwhelming and the panic still grips at me.   
_Pint:_ Would you like me to come in and help?  
 _Suits:_ No. I need the space. I appreciate you coming here instead of the original plan to meet at the restaurant. I can understand your reasonings now. I know I would not have coped if this situation had been in public.   
_Pint:_ I’m at least smart about how I clean up my mistakes. Or, try to be. I can’t help being a bit impulsive. But you know this about me. You know more about me than anyone. Please tell me this isn’t over.   
_Suits:_ Not for the moment; but I will need time, Greg. As I said, I know you meant well but this hurts. A lot. It’s like you accidentally knocked my world upside down. You didn’t mean it but I still have all the things to clean up that were tossed about. I don’t even know if I can forgive you, Greg.   
_Pint_ : Myc…   
_Suits:_ Time will be the judge of that. However, for the sake of honesty, I believe will likely be able to give you another chance. Even if it still hurts, I think we can move past it.   
_Pint:_ That sounds more like you will forgive me, but you won’t forget. I can live with that, if that’s the case.

Greg breathed out a deep sigh of relief. It wasn’t the best reaction and outcome, but it certainly wasn’t the worst either. He looked up and noticed that Mycroft’s boss had been standing watching him, but he didn’t bother to give her a response. She wasn’t important.   
“Myc? Are you managing alright enough now?”   
“Mm,” Mycroft hummed through the door. He still couldn’t speak properly, but the intense panic had subsided now that he had some explanation. He knew that if he’d fled and not let Greg speak to him, if Greg had left like he’d wanted, then he’d have spent the next indeterminable amount of time fretting about the motives behind the deception and coming to all kinds of conclusions — none of them positive. It was likely that the situation would never have been resolved. He had to admire Greg’s, Pint’s, determination. He felt weak and shaky, and honestly just wanted to curl up in bed for a while. The floor was making him ache, but he honestly wasn’t sure if he had the strength to get up at this point. He needed to just rest and get some strength back. If he could have rested after a shower, to be rid of his sweat-drenched clothing, that would have been better.   
“I’m going to go now, ok, Myc? You can message me any time you need. I get that you need some time and space. Are you alright getting home?”  
“Mm,” Mycroft agreed, closing his eyes as he rested against the door. 

Greg pulled himself up, and decided to at least explain to Mycroft’s boss about the panic attack — just so she’d be aware to help if needed. He didn’t say anything about the situation. She seemed caring enough, and agreed to look out for Mycroft as he left. He could only hope she wouldn’t be obnoxious about it, but given what Myc had already said about her, subtlety wasn’t her strong suit. He really didn’t want to leave but he knew staying any further was only going to cause problems. It was all up to Myc now. 


	15. Chapter 15

Mycroft was conflicted. He wanted to reach out to Pint, the only person he’d felt comforted by, but he continually flinched every time he reached for his phone upon remembering. He had let himself lay in bed until midday, his head swirling with thoughts. He literally had no one else he could talk to. He wanted to be angry at Pint for giving him something so precious — companionship — and then taking it away. But he couldn’t. Pint never actually took it away. Mycroft’s own mind had. Greg had told him to contact him at any time, for anything. No, Pint (Greg, Mycroft reminded himself) was still there willing to offer that companionship; he’d just broken the trust in Mycroft’s heart enough for him to isolate himself away. 

_Intent or outcome?_

Mycroft pondered it at length. He could only really consider the situation logically, since there was no way for him to discern his feelings whilst they were such an overwhelming mess. In politics, the more important of the two tended to be outcome. It didn’t matter if a politician didn’t _mean_ to eradicate a native species by building a bypass through the habitat; it happens, and the public is furious. Having ‘good intentions’ does not stop the suffering of a war fought for political gain. Bad deeds can be done with good intentions, and are responded to considering the deed only and the affects it caused. But then again, the judiciary system was based more for intent over outcome. People were tried and charged with the intent as a vital part of the situation. It did not completely negate the outcome of whatever action, but it altered the response. Perhaps he should consider that avenue? If someone kills another person without meaning to, it’s charged as manslaughter instead of murder… those are very different charges, with different punishments, despite the fact the victim is still dead. 

The question remained: were Pint’s actions more like that of a politician scheming, or a noble criminal? Mycroft huffed to himself at the thought of a noble criminal, but he couldn’t quite pin down an alternative term. He sighed. His brother seemed to always toe the line in this regard, and Mycroft hadn’t really settled on a moral high ground in regards to him yet. Sherlock broke the law constantly, but he did it to make people’s lives better. True, it was only as a by-product of his desire to prevent boredom, but the fact remained that Sherlock behaved in a morally questionable manner for an overall greater good and Mycroft had accepted it. Really, Gregory’s behaviour was a step up from that of Sherlock’s… shouldn’t that then mean that Mycroft should be ok with it as well? The difference was that it was personal. It was easy for Mycroft to consider Sherlock’s transgressions as being insignificant, because of the benefit of the outcome, when the transgressions weren’t affecting him personally. They were meaningless statistics on a page, not wounds in his heart. 

Mycroft groaned loudly and rubbed his head. He sat up, looking out into the dull empty room. He closed his eyes and decided to try and say it all out aloud to get it straight.   
“So. Gregory’s intentions were pure. He wanted only the best for me — not even for himself, but for me. He did try hard not to make his actions worse than they had to be by avoiding lying. The result of my hurt feelings should not be ignored, but I think I should evoke criminal law’s ideology that his intent is important. So… that would mean I should make him try atone for the transgression instead of just send him away. That would imply that I should give him another chance.” 

His mind seemed to be happy with that outcome, and surprisingly, so was his heart. The realisation that he was willing to give Pint — _Gregory, Mycroft, it’s Gregory_ — another chance made him feel exuberantly happy to not be alone. The isolation seemed to hurt more than Greg’s unintended betrayal. He would be cautious, he knew he would, but he didn’t want to lose the only person he’s ever had.   
_Am I being too willing to forgive? Is this just another example of me thinking I don’t matter enough to have a stance and therefore taking whatever I can get?  
_ Mycroft knew that if he were to ask Sherlock, the only person that knew him besides Greg, that the answer would be along the lines of ‘if there’s an idiot that wants you, take it because he’s the only one’. Not exactly beneficial for his self-confidence, but when had Sherlock ever been? No… ultimately, he wanted to have Greg in his life. If he wanted it, then it was ok to make concessions for it, he decided.   
_Although, Greg did seem to know that he’d hurt me. He appears to want to made amends. I wouldn’t have to have the conflict to make him see that. He’d willingly accept conditions and hesitations on my part._

Mycroft picked up his phone and opened the messaging app. There were messages from Pint, which he hadn’t noticed coming in. 

_Pint:_ Myc, I know you’re hurting right now but I wanted to let you know I’m here. I hope you sleep ok.  
 _Pint:_ I don’t want you to be alone. I never wanted that… the opposite, actually. I know I did wrong by you but I want to try make it better. Please talk to me.   
_Pint:_ I have to go to work now but I am leaving my phone out on the desk. I’ll see your messages. I don’t care if I’m told off for it.   
_Pint:_ I told my boss that I needed to see if my partner messaged as there’s a bit of a crisis going on. He didn’t ask questions but told me not to let it interfere with my work. I avoided pronouns, in case you are afraid of being ‘outed’… we haven’t really talked about that yet. I’m sorry if you don’t want to be together anymore and I offended you by saying ‘partner’, but I couldn’t rationalise just a friend I think. Besides, I am still hopeful.  
 _Pint:_ The silence is scaring me a bit Myc. You are usually up early, and can’t resist responding. That’s not anything against you, that’s just your posh growing up. I like it, really. It’s just been hours and you haven’t said anything. Even if you tell me to go away, please respond.   
_Pint:_ It’s my lunch break. I’ll be here for an hour and while I don’t want to keep bothering you if you don’t want to talk to me, I’m worried about you. If you don’t want me to message, tell me and I’ll stop until you tell me otherwise.   
_Pint:_ Myc I’m getting close to calling someone to check on you. I haven’t called you because I don’t want you to hate me for being clingy or having to hear my voice… but I think I will if there’s no sign of life soon. 

Mycroft’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. Greg was clearly in distress from the lack of communication. The last message was sent only four minutes ago, and since it was still before one, Greg was still on his lunch break. He began to type a response, but received a message before he had finished. 

_Pint:_ Oh thank god!

Mycroft smiled fondly down upon his phone.   
_He must have been watching and saw me start to type._

_Suits:_ Greg, I apologise for not responding to you sooner.   
_Pint:_ I was worried something had happened to you! Like, overdosing on anti-anxiety pills or something.   
_Suits:_ I found myself sleeping late and I remained laying in bed until just recently. The emotions were a mess and I needed to try and work through them.   
_Pint:_ I’m so sorry.   
_Suits:_ I know. If anything, your panic has shown me that you honestly do care for me.   
_Pint:_ Totally and completely, Mycroft. I understand if you don’t want to speak to me anymore but I love you. I’m not trying to get you to forgive me but I want you to know that I do and will do my best to make it all up to you.   
_Suits:_ No one has particularly cared if I was around, besides fulfilling a contract I had signed.   
_Pint:_ Well those people can go to hell. You are precious and amazing, and I can’t help but feel protective over you. I’ve wanted to punish myself even for causing you pain.   
_Suits:_ Please don’t punish yourself. I have been thinking a lot, and I don’t feel any hatred towards you. I’m still a bit hurt and find trusting you difficult, but I don’t want to end what we had because of it.   
_Pint:_ You… that’s… you don’t know how relieved I am. I wouldn’t have coped well with destroying our relationship with my idiotic attempts to help you. I would have been a lot worse if you’d broken down completely and never wanted to talk to another person again let alone me.   
_Suits:_ I admit your ‘friendship lessons’ have been helpful in that regard as well.   
_Pint:_ I’m so glad. I want to keep helping if I can, if you want that. You still won’t have to do social things alone anymore. I’m not expecting you to become an extrovert, I just want you to be able to have friendships and interactions without having a panic attack. I know you’ll never become a social butterfly and that’s fine. Being quiet and reserved will always be your thing.   
_Suits:_ Social situations exhaust me, and at the moment talking with you is taxing. Just because there are a lot of emotions involved. I expect that will improve with time but I need you to understand that I will take some time to return to our previous level of intimacy.   
_Pint:_ Totally and completely understandable. I will still keep trying to talk to you because I know it’s easier for you to talk when I take the lead in that regard. You’re the most important person in the world to me, Myc.

Mycroft’s heart jumped at reading the last sentence. A familiar warmth spread through him, and an urge to reach out and hug Greg surfaced. He smiled to himself, knowing that if he could feel like that — even briefly — right now, then it wouldn’t be long and he’d be able to return to how they used to be. He didn’t know what to say; Greg was still _his_ most important person, but he felt hesitant at saying in in case it came across as having forgiven him completely already and therefore willing to be as close as they were before the reveal happened. 

_Pint:_ I have to go back to work now. I’m so glad you’re around. Maybe not ok, but not dead or dying. I know I’m a bit dramatic, but you know that about me already.   
_Suits:_ That is fine. I will speak to you soon.   
_Pint:_ Yes, we will speak soon. 

~

The tension in Greg’s gut eased immediately, and he suddenly felt able to work. When he got back to his desk, he was surprised that he was working on a murder case; he hadn’t even noticed beforehand. His boss had already written down the leads to the case, and he had to follow the bank side of it. Sally informed him that he’d been looking over bank details all morning when he said that he was going to call the bank. That had led into the conversation about Mycroft. He altered the story slightly, since he wasn’t comfortable sharing everything without Mycroft’s consent (and he was rather ashamed of his ploy, as well). He said that he asked Mycroft out to dinner, and he was having trouble accepting it given his social anxiety. Sally wished him well, and said that he shouldn’t have a problem since it was pretty clear to her that Mycroft had been eying Greg that night. That made Greg smile sheepishly to himself; they had both found each other attractive without realising who the other was. 

Greg was rather productive for the remainder of the day. When his shift ended, he pulled out his phone and began talking to Myc. He was sure to keep the conversation light, and before long, they were talking as they had at the start of their association. Mycroft shared a fic that was short, and so Greg read it quickly and found himself laughing loudly. He shared a story he knew that was equally as funny, and Myc responded with the bits he found the most hilarious. As was typical Suits, Mycroft included how no good doctor would accidentally trip a nerve like that, and as Carson was indeed a good doctor, the situation shouldn’t have happened. 

They talked throughout the evening. Greg told Myc how he was too lazy to cook and so was ordering a pepperoni pizza. Mycroft then told him that he could make a vegetarian facsimile of pepperoni, and therefore not need to eat meat while enjoying pizza. Greg was curious about other vegetarian options for replacing meat, and then found himself watching a video of removing the gluten from dough to make a ball of imitation meat. When he asked Mycroft what it felt like, as it seemed to look like slime, Mycroft had responded with ‘there is no way I will ever put my hand in something like that’, which had Greg cackling with laughter. It didn’t surprise him that Mycroft had an aversion to touching things like that. 

Greg really wanted to be able to call him and just talk out loud, and hear his voice, but knew it would be pushing it. Maybe another time. At least they were able to get on much like they had before the incident. Therefore it was rather surprising when Mycroft said that Sherlock called him, and that he would rather talk to Greg on the phone than listen to his brother’s annoying insults. Greg still knew better than to offer, but said that they could do that soon… and Mycroft agreed. Greg felt his stomach stir at the idea. 

After it got quite late, sharing tales of their lives and various fan-related tidbits, they decided to bring the night to a close. Greg lay in bed, much more at ease with the world than he had been in some time. He slept soundly. 


	16. Chapter 16

It took one month, one week, and three days for Mycroft to feel ready enough to see Greg again. They had talked a lot in that time, both about general life things and about their relationship. The tension Mycroft felt in his gut eased slowly as he was more assured that Gregory was the same person as Pint, and that person was the one he wanted to be with. The trust slowly built up again. He knew that Greg wasn’t going to try and push him, and wasn’t going to try and make him uncomfortable. Not once in all of that time did Gregory try organise a meet up or hint at wanting more than just their phone conversations. He had offered various things for atonement, all of which Mycroft declined.   
Mycroft had surprised himself at how easily it had been to slip back into a virtual relationship. He’d sent a virtual cuddle before it registered that it was the first since, what he was calling in his head, ‘the reveal’. Greg had given him a smiley face and a cuddle back.   
It was Mycroft who asked about Greg’s thoughts on meeting again. He’d said that he was emotionally prepared for it, and wanted to know if Greg would be open to doing just a coffee or lunch at a café first before heading into a more serious commitment such as dinner. He was secretly thrilled that Greg had said it a ‘novel idea’, and shared his thoughts that it might be a good chance to start over — doing it right this time. 

They met at the same café, at the same time, as their first encounter. Mycroft arrived first to pick the table, and sat waiting. His nerves got the better of him, and he whipped out his phone to start talking with Greg. 

_Suits:_ I’m here, waiting. The table out the back, like last time.   
_Pint:_ I figured. Give me another five minutes, I’m on my way.   
_Suits:_ Perfectly acceptable; I am here several minutes early. You are not late.   
_Pint:_ You’re still the only person I know to use a semi colon when typing on the phone.   
_Suits:_ I must still use correct English, regardless of the medium used to convey it.   
_Pint:_ Oh, I know, I just mean it’s cute. Like you.   
_Suits:_ How is being grammatically correct ‘cute’, or even endearing? It should be a standard practice.   
_Pint:_ Most people are either too lazy or don’t know the rules, or want to ‘fit in’. Now I’m going to need to either walk or stroll while typing, so unless you want me to take an extra ten minutes to arrive, I’ll see you soon.   
_Suits:_ Very well. 

Mycroft resorted to tapping on the table with one hand, drinking water with the other, while his leg jerked involuntarily. He was undeniably nervous, but he still desperately wanted this meeting to go well. He eyed the doorway, and felt his heart jump when the greying policeman walked through it. He smiled at Mycroft, who gave really more of a grimace in return.   
“Alright, Myc?” Greg asked as he took a seat opposite Mycroft.   
“Managing,” Mycroft responded, and took a sip of his water.   
“Good, good. So um, have you ordered anything yet?”  
“No,” Mycroft answered, suddenly wondering if he should have ordered, but then reminding himself that there wasn’t much need for him to have done so already. He swallowed, the idea of now having to choose something to order, and then relaying his choice to a stranger, loomed uncomfortably over him.   
“Hey, relax, I’ll order for you, yeah?” Greg said, reaching out and patting Mycroft’s hand. It was obvious that he was already quite stressed, and Greg wanted to alleviate some of it, or at least prevent more, as much as he could.   
Mycroft nodded. “Thank you.”   
“Just coffee for now? Or do you want food?”  
“Uh…” Mycroft vocalised, not even able to make that decision. He knew Greg wouldn’t get angry at him, but he found himself unable to say one way or another anyway. It was involuntary.   
“Haha, well, I’m quite hungry, so I’m going to order something and I’ll get something for you. Sound good?”  
Mycroft blushed, nodded, and uttered a ‘thanks’ of appreciation. He was deeply grateful that Gregory was being so accomodating. He waited, and then Gregory returned with a number. He felt like he should say something, but wasn’t sure exactly where to start the conversation. He, himself, would be alright sitting in silence, but he knew that silence was generally uncomfortable for others. 

Greg grinned at Mycroft. He was just so appreciative to be given another chance, he couldn’t help but feel a happy buzz throughout his body. Even when Mycroft was shifting uncomfortably, Greg found him adorable. The way he’d give a quick smile when flashing his eyes up, he redness just tinting his cheeks, the dusting of freckles on the pale skin, the ginger hair… Greg cleared his throat to try rid himself of those thoughts. He’d walked down that road a few nights before and he didn’t want Mycroft to read _that_ on his face.   
“So, what do you think of McShepp?” Greg asked, knowing that generally that was quite a loaded question.   
“I honestly don’t see it,” Mycroft answered. “When there is such clear chemistry between Rodney and Carson, why do people wish to pair Rodney with Sheppard?”   
“I feel the same, really. I mean, I’m not against it per-se, not like a lot of people are in the McBeck fandom.”  
“People are against the McShepp pairing?”  
“Oh, yeah,” Greg said, leaning back in his chair. “Loads of the McBeck shippers I’ve chatted with are really against the idea. I’m just really a devoted McBecker, but not actively trying to sink some other ship.”   
“Sink? Ha, you make some lovely wordplay, Gregory,” Mycroft said, his eyes glittering with mirth.   
“I wish I could take credit for it, if it means you look at me like that… but I have to be honest and say it’s just a general term people use on _Rollr_. There’s like… all these ships, and some people like to be a member of multiple crews, some just two, some like to have residency on one ship and go visit others sometimes, and then there’s some people that like to man the canons and try shoot other ships down.”   
“Sounds more like a naval base than a website,” Mycroft muttered, frowning. Greg burst out laughing, which made him look up and grin.   
“Yeah, it can get like that. I’m one of the blokes that just like to sunbathe on deck of my ship, waving as the others go by.”   
“Is that how you stay tanned in the London weather?” Mycroft asked as a joke, but then suddenly realised it could be taken the wrong way. He waited for a reaction with baited breath.   
“Hahah, if only,” Greg laughed. “Unfortunately, I just have skin that likes to tan. Doesn’t take much for me to slip a shade darker.” Greg winked at Mycroft playfully.   
“I tend to simply burn,” Mycroft admitted. “But addressing your original query, I can understand people wanting to shove the main characters together, simply because they are popular in their own right. The concept simply doesn’t hold enough merit in my view. John and Rodney together, that is. They are close, yes, but more brotherly than the heated chemistry that could lead to a romance. He had that with Carson from the beginning, and it developed more into a ‘married couple’ dynamic as the show progressed. However, I cannot deny that Rodney shippers would need something after Sunday—”  
“We don’t talk about Sunday,” Greg interrupted firmly, giving him a stare. Mycroft shut his mouth instantly, and swallowed uncomfortably.   
“My apologies,” Mycroft mumbled, sinking into his chair.   
“No, dear, sorry… it was half a joke. Generally, yeah, we don’t recognise canon-Sunday in the _Rollr_ group, but I mean, I still read post-Sunday fics if I’m in need of some strong angst or Sunday AUs where the outcome changes.”   
Mycroft simply nodded, seeing the waitress approach their table. Gregory had ordered him the same drink as he’d chosen for their first meeting, along with a grilled panini.   
“You— you remembered?”  
“Yeah, I hope you wanted it,” Greg said, taking a sip of his coffee and hissing as the liquid burnt his tongue.   
“That is very considerate, thank you. Is your dish the same as mine?”  
“No. I got a ham, cheese, and tomato one. I got you a grilled eggplant and camembert, since you don’t eat meat.”   
“Much appreciated.”

Greg took care not to talk while chewing, since that was another thing he remembered really upset Mycroft. He was rather pleased with himself for remembering Mycroft’s drink, a good meal choice, and to have removed the initial tension with a fandom-related question. He chuckled at seeing Mycroft use cutlery on his sandwich, whereas Greg was still more than happy to use his hands. 

Things went well; they conversed lightly and jovially, finished their meals, and continued to chat. Greg knew better than to ask for another time to meet, or for an actual ‘date’, since Mycroft had been resistant to calling their introductory coffee meeting a date. It was understandable for him to be hesitant to make the association with that level of intimacy so soon. Instead, when they stood to leave, Greg simply said that he enjoyed the company and would talk to Mycroft soon. 

Mycroft watched Greg leave, feeling content within himself. It was still strange to be outside, around other people, having just spent an hour talking to someone, and feel content. Normally he spent the entire time stressed and anxious, and felt exhausted and wrung-out by the end of it. Today, he felt strangely happy and even mournful to have their time together end. He smiled to himself and walked back to work, thinking that he was willing to attempt a proper date: a dinner. 


	17. Chapter 17

Greg couldn’t believe what he was reading. Mycroft was actually saying he was ready for their date. The dinner date that he’d agreed to before the big reveal. Greg had thought it would be too soon, and that Mycroft would have wanted to test the waters with a few more coffee ‘meetings’ before jumping into a dinner. The reasons did make Greg’s heart soar, however. Mycroft said that he noticed how considerate Greg was during their lunch. How it wasn’t awkward at all, because of Greg’s attempts to make him comfortable — either by changing topics, pushing subjects, or being happy to sit in silence at times. Mycroft had reminded him that things were still a bit tentative, but that he wanted to try provided Greg still was able to make those concessions for him. Greg had said they weren’t concessions, they were considerations that he was happy to give. That had made Mycroft particularly happy, which was how Greg found himself on a dinner date so soon.  
He was to pick Mycroft up from work, like they had organised last time, but without any ‘nasty surprises’. Greg felt extremely nervous. He really wanted it, that wasn’t in question — he didn’t understand why his heart was pounding against his chest and his stomach twisted itself in knots. He realised that it must be what Mycroft felt all the time when going to meet someone — an irrational dread. He shook his head and walked into the building.  
“Hey, Myc, are you ready?”  
“Hello Gregory, yes, I’m just shutting down the computer now.”  
Greg looked at Mycroft, really looked, and could tell he was as nervous as Greg was. He tried to reason that if they both felt anxious, it wasn’t so bad, and that if Mycroft was _only_ feeling this bad, then it was a good thing. “No rush,” he said, standing at the desk and leaning his elbows on the front.  
“And done,” Mycroft announced, standing. “Shall we go?”  
“Yes, yes.”  
“Gregory, you look nervous.”  
“I am, I can’t deny that,” Greg chuckled, hoping that the butterflies in his stomach settled at the movement.  
“Why?”  
“I-I don’t know, really. I guess I don’t want to screw this up or make it bad for you, but… memories.”  
“I see,” Mycroft hummed as he slipped on his coat. “Well, thus far, you have been exemplary in not causing a panic.”  
“Is… is that a joke?”  
“Somewhat said in jest, yes.” Mycroft grinned at Gregory. For some reason, seeing his — _god, he really is my boyfriend now_ — visibly anxious made him feel more at ease, as if he wasn’t alone. 

They walked in the cool evening air towards a restaurant. Greg had chosen this one without asking Mycroft, saying that it was more like a date if he was the one to bring Myc to the place and show him a good time, and making Mycroft comfortable by removing the sheer overwhelming panic from having to pick somewhere. He was glad that Mycroft was indeed happy to have the venue chosen for him. It was an Italian place, since Greg wasn’t sure what Mycroft thought of curries yet (and it didn’t seem a first-date kind of place, somehow) and he knew Italian food had vegetarian options. Greg hovered his hand behind the small of Mycroft’s back, not bold enough to actually touch him, but brave enough to make the gesture, to lead him inside.   
“Reservation for Lestrade,” Greg told the waitress, whom nodded in return and collected two menus.   
“This way, sir,” she said, walking off towards a table by the wall on the far side. “Any drinks for starting?”  
“Just some water for the table for now, thanks,” Greg answered, flashing her a quick smile before returning his attention to Mycroft as she left.   
“Thank you,” Mycroft said, making himself comfortable in the seat.   
“No worries, I usually say that anyway.”   
“Do you come here often?”  
“No; only once beforehand, actually. It was nice, but honestly — I can make similar stuff at home.”  
“Yes, you have told me of some of your culinary exploits,” Mycroft said with a grin, picking up his menu.   
“I dunno if I’d call them exploits, but yeah, I can make pasta.”   
“Where do you usually go, when you dine out, then?”  
“Generally to places I can’t cook the dish myself so well: Indian often, and Thai a fair bit. That’s when I’m going out, like, not just grabbing something to stuff my face between work and sleep if you know what I mean. To be fair, most of the time I actually go out, I go out to the pub with a few mates. I end up getting a pub meal there… it’s alright, but just really food that’s there, you know?”  
“No, sorry.”  
“Oh. Well, since my mates and I generally go out to the cheaper places, the meals are cheap but average. Basically stuff you could easily cook yourself and isn’t fancy, but there’s a good portion and you don’t have to go find somewhere different to eat when you’re out having fun drinking. There are some pubs that aim for an upper class market or something, and instead have a ‘bistro’ where the food is classier and more expensive, so it’s like going out for dinner than just eating while you’re having a few pints.”   
“Interesting,” Mycroft mused, taking a sip of his water. He said it completely without jest, and so Greg laughed.   
“It’s really not, but I’m glad to be teaching you stuff about the big scary social world. Not making fun of you there, either… it is bloody scary sometimes. Particularly when you’re a copper, and you see the results after the wrong word was said to the wrong bloke.”   
“I imagine you’d know the better places to spend time, then,” Mycroft said. “Those where the call outs are minimal.”  
“Yep. That’s a good thing, with my job. You get to know where the safe places are, and where you get good food cheap. Any perks to your job?”  
“Besides realising how doomed the country and the world is?” Mycroft asked, and Greg couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He let out a nervous laugh and nodded.   
“Well, I suppose the biggest ‘perks’, as you say, would be the networking opportunities and accruing of favours.”   
Greg almost spluttered on his water. “Accruing favours? Seriously?”  
“You’d be surprised,” Mycroft hummed, and gave Greg a mischievous grin. Greg didn’t want to think about how excited that look made him. He picked up the menu to begin looking at the options, and Mycroft did as well.  
“Hm, I usually am quite fond of the penne Napoletana, however I am feeling tempted by the Gnocchi al Pesto,” Mycroft mused, perusing the menu.   
“Geez, you say that well,” Greg exclaimed, hearing Mycroft’s pronunciation.   
“Well, I am fluent in Italian, therefore it is not unexpected.”   
“Really? Huh. Sorry, I just had it in my head that it was French you could speak… I could have sworn you asked me something in French because of my surname.”  
“I can also speak French, Gregory. Your memory is quite right, and rather exceptional to have remembered such.” Mycroft smiled warmly to Greg over his menu.   
“Shit. That’s — wow.”   
Mycroft furrowed his brows and put his menu down on the table, tilting his head as he looked at Gregory. “Is something wrong?”  
“What? No, no of course not. I’m just… you can speak three languages, and I can barely speak one.”   
“You do yourself a discredit, Gregory. It is intimidating?”  
“No, I’m not intimidated. More… awestruck at how amazing you are.” Greg looked at Mycroft with wide eyes. “You really are amazing, you know.”   
Mycroft flushed red, and looked down at the table. “Thank you, Gregory.”  
Greg reached out across the table and took Mycroft’s hand in his own. He was pleased that Mycroft didn’t flinch and try pull away. “Hey, look at me. You honestly are amazing, Myc. And you are more than allowed to accept the compliment without trying to hide away. I don’t know what happened in your past that makes you think you should be ashamed about your talents and try to hide them away, but I’m telling you that it’s perfectly fine to be proud of your talents. You’re not being arrogant by just acknowledging you can do things.”   
Mycroft looked deep into the chocolate eyes and felt his heart lurch forward, as if trying to hug the man. He smiled, a true, warm smile, and nodded. “In that case, I will inform you that I can currently speak twelve languages.” Gregory’s eyes blew wide and his jaw dropped, and he started to shake his head. Mycroft started to panic. “I assure you, I’m not lying. I can prove it to you, if—”  
“No, I’m just… _twelve_? That’s beyond incredible. I’m now sitting here thinking firstly, what the hell do you see in me, since you’re more of a genius than I thought. Secondly, why the fuck are you just some idiot’s PA?”  
Mycroft squeezed Gregory’s hand gently. “I see a great many things in you, Greg. Again, don’t sell yourself short. You have strengths where I fail miserably — you shouldn’t compare us like that. As for my job, I can’t tell you.”  
“I’m beginning to think there’s a lot more to you than you let on, Mycroft Holmes,” Greg said quietly, his eyebrows flickering suggestively. The waitress returned to take their orders before Mycroft could deny it, and so Greg took that to mean ‘yes’. He realised that he hadn’t actually selected yet, and so requested some more time. He actually decided to pick his meal first, and talk with Mycroft once he’d done that. 

“English, French, Italian, German, Dutch, Russian, Spanish, Polish, Greek, Latin, Japanese, and Mandarin.”   
“Fuck…” Greg exhaled.   
“I am currently attempting to learn Swedish, and from there, learn Norwegian and Danish.”  
“How? Why?” Greg asked, stunned.   
“Well, the Nordic languages are similar. Swedish and Norwegian are so similar, in fact, that educated people from either country can communicate with each other in their native language and be relatively understood by the others.”   
“Odd, but I guess it makes sense. Do many other languages do that?”  
“Yes, actually. That is how it is easy to learn many languages quickly. By learning one language in a particular family, you are able to understand a great deal about the other languages within that family. The more particular languages you learn, and the more families you learn, the quicker you can pick up associated languages.”  
“How can you even remember all of the words?”  
Mycroft chuckled and sipped his drink. “I remember things easily,” he commented. “In the beginning it can be difficult to remember which words belong in which language, but after some time and use, they become clustered together and remain separate.”  
“So, have you learned lots of different families?”  
“For the European region, yes. I have only Mandarin and Japanese outside of Europe for international negotiation reasons. It is not likely, at least at this stage in my career, to learn many more Asiatic languages. I will need to learn some Arabic and Indic-based languages soon, no doubt.”   
“Makes what I need to do for my job seem pretty easy, in comparison,” Greg grumbled good-naturedly. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, I know, no comparisons. You’re right, that I shouldn’t do that. What about we just focus on what we like about each other, without any upsetting ‘he can do this and I can’t’ or ‘he’s better than me because…’ stuff, eh?”  
“Most agreeable,” Mycroft said as he nodded. He was not comfortable with any sort of comparisons being made, as he knew he likely could provide evidence as ‘bettering’ Gregory in most things — it was just part of who he was, as a genius — and he didn’t want that to be a sore spot for someone he loved. The waitress returned and took their orders, Mycroft ordering the penne and Greg the beef ravioli. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, which Mycroft appreciated. It gave him a chance to recharge a little for conversation. 

“So, tell me about learning languages. Which ones are like the others?”  
“Which have similar roots? Well, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian all have a common Italic Romance root.”  
“Oh, so, since you can speak Spanish and Italian, you could understand a lot of Portuguese too?”  
“Essentially, yes. I would have to spend some time studying the language’s particulars, but already having a lot of the base down, it would be a case of learning bits and pieces on top of what I know instead of trying to learn something entirely new.”  
“I see, so it takes a lot less time to essentially get fluent in it.” Greg nodded, his face impressed.   
“Yes. I learned Dutch that way, since Dutch is related to English and German. Swedish is also a Germanic language, and so should be similar in some respects. It, and the associated Norwegian and Danish, diverged before English and German separated, but I don’t expect it to be too taxing.”   
“Cool. Damn, I wish I could speak another language. It’d take me a lot of work, though. But hey, I don’t really need to now, do I? I have my own personal translator! One that looks devilishly handsome in a suit.” Greg gave his signature cheeky grin, and was pleased to see Mycroft blush. “One question though: why learn Latin? It’s it like, dead, isn’t it?”  
“There are no native speakers, but the language is still important. Many languages either evolved directly from, or in combination with, Latin. You would be surprised how easy it is to understand the meanings of words, even in English, once understanding Latin. I learned Greek for a similar purpose.”  
“How though? I’m confused.”   
Mycroft drew a deep breath and pondered how to explain it to Gregory. Their meals arrived, and Greg started eating with an expectant look still on his face. “Do you know what a prefix and a suffix is?”  
“Are they like, different kinds of glue?”  
“No,” Mycroft groaned with an exasperated sigh. He stabbed at a penne and ate it while he thought. “They are the little pieces of language you attach onto the front or ends of words, prefixes and suffixes respectively. ‘Un’ is a common example. You know that when you put the prefix ‘un’ at the start of a word, it changes the meaning to mean the opposite.”   
“Oh, yeah, like, wrap and unwrap.”  
“Precisely. You therefore know that because ‘un’ turns the rest of the word into meaning the opposite, you can then interpret words you don’t understand that begin with ‘un’ to mean the opposite of the stem word. Of course, it’s not always the case, given the combination of words that remain in the English language from various sources.” 

Greg munched at his food, nodding along with Mycroft. He was glad that they were talking about something that Mycroft knew a lot about, and was happy to continue talking about. It made him incredibly more relaxed, and Greg was comforted seeing Mycroft more at ease. He smiled happily as Mycroft began to talk about the history of the English language, following the various occupations of England and the influences of languages in particular fields. He was surprised that Mycroft learned an entire language, Greek, just to understand scientific words in more detail. It was an interesting solution, Greg had to admit — by learning the roots of the words, he could interpret what the words meant without having to remember them. He could see how that would help when learning anatomy, since Mycroft explained that he could likely understand exactly what part of the human body a name is referring to without having studied it prior. 

Mycroft was exhilarated that Gregory was so keen on listening to him talk. He loved sharing his knowledge, and his _boyfriend_ (still a strange sensation to say it) seemed genuinely interested in what he was saying — he listened intently, and nodded along enthusiastically. It was half an hour before Mycroft realised his throat hurt, as he’d used it more in the last thirty minutes than he would normally in a week combined. He stopped to eat more seriously, instead of poking at his food between sentences, exhausted but still smiling. He was grateful that Gregory then decided to talk about his day, and life as a police officer. Mycroft tried to appear as interested as Greg had been for his language talk, without it seeming faked, as a common courtesy. He was actually interested, but he wasn’t very good at judging how well he portrayed it. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to phase Gregory. 

Their meals done, they declined dessert. Mycroft was acutely aware of how electing dessert could come across — lots of adjectives relating to his weight came to mind. Gregory had said that he was too full, but could go for ice-cream later perhaps. Mycroft had to chuckle, but remained slightly wistful to the idea of succumbing to the temptation of desserts.   
Greg paid, insistent, and Mycroft gave up without much of a fight. Greg knew that he was shying away from the conflict, and he really didn’t want Mycroft to feel uncomfortable, but paying for the meal was something he really wanted to do. He smiled and led Mycroft out of the restaurant, daring to actually hold Mycroft’s lower back as they exited. He tingled at the contact of his hand upon Mycroft’s jacket, once he saw that it had been welcomed.   
“So, what would you like to do now? Call it a night or walk about for a little?” Greg asked, adding the options quickly after the initial question for Mycroft’s ease.   
“I would not be aversive to a stroll,” Mycroft admitted, huddling his face into his coat.   
“Great, neither would I.” Greg smiled assuringly, looking into Mycroft’s timid eyes. “How about we head in the general direction of your flat, so that when we do decide to turn in, you won’t have to wait so long to get there?”   
“Acceptable.” Mycroft stood up straighter, now having a direction, and began to walk. Gregory followed him at his side, close enough for their coats to swish together in the mildly cool evening. “I admit I do not know the protocol for this situation,” he uttered, chancing a glance at Gregory’s face.   
“There’s not really a protocol, Myc. Just whatever is comfortable.”  
“Well, what would you normally do at the end of a date?”  
“I guess it depends on how the date went,” Greg said, shrugging.   
Mycroft bit his tongue, wanting to ask how Gregory perceived their date having gone. He knew that if it had gone badly, he didn’t want to hear it. Whilst he himself had no other experience to compare the evening with, Greg had many dates that would have gone better or worse… and thus had a scale upon which to judge their night. He could have had an amicable time and not even noticed Gregory disliking his company. He startled when he felt Greg’s hand clasp his own.   
“Hey, don’t worry so much, ok? I had a wonderful time. Definitely one of my best dates,” Greg said. He’d noticed Mycroft tensing and thinking intently, and it had taken a second for him to realise why. He was relived to see the anxiety recede from his partner’s body at his words.   
“You already read me well,” Mycroft commented.   
“Is that surprising?”  
“Very. Few can decipher my expressions, and I believe even fewer bother to try.”   
“Well, dear, I can say that you are very expressive. Others not understanding what you express is more indicative of their limited experiences, than anything against you. I mean, I admit I had some trouble in the beginning… you project your discomfort differently, as a self-defence mechanism no doubt, but it does send a different message than the emotion you are experiencing. But hey, no, don’t be upset by that — let me finish. That can be good to ward off the general people whom you don’t want to be closer. Once you let someone in, you express like everyone else and that’s not hard to read at all.”   
Mycroft grimaced, pondering Gregory’s argument. He had to agree with it, even if part of him had felt pride in being unreadable. He supposed it was better that he wasn’t as much an outcast as he’d thought, really. He realised that he was still holding hands with Gregory, who was clearly regarding him for any sign of discomfort from the action. He smiled shyly, and gave the hand a gentle squeeze. Greg’s face lit up, and it made him smile broader.   
“So, what do you usually do at the end of a good date, then?”   
Greg pursed his lips. Honestly? He’d shagged them. There was no way he was about to bring that up. Mycroft was under enough pressure as it was by just meeting for a meal, and it was his first date ever… he wasn’t about to throw that bomb at him. “Well, I’d walk back to their place with them, or to mine. Extend the time we’d spend together. Sometimes they’d want to stay longer, so we’d get some coffee or tea. Sometimes it’d be talking, other times it’d be more kissing.”   
Mycroft raked his eyes over Gregory. He was nervous and being careful about how he phrased his answer — it was something he was very good at reading. He clenched his jaw, unsettled that Greg was still keeping things from him or manipulating him. “I see.”  
Greg looked at Mycroft’s stern expression. “I’m not trying to pressure anything, Myc. I honestly am not expecting anything. We are taking this at your pace, remember? So really, what I normally do on dates doesn’t matter. What matters is what _you_ want to do on _this_ date. I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to push you into starting an intimate relationship before you’re ready because I’ve said it’s what normally happens on dates for me.”  
Mycroft relaxed his shoulders. That had been a reasonable explanation for Gregory’s careful words. A distant voice in his head, one that Pint had helped create, told him that he shouldn’t assume the worst of people immediately. He realised he was grateful to be considered, and no longer sour about being manipulated. “Thank you,” he responded, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly.  
“I mean it. I’m happy to go as far as you are comfortable, in whatever time frame you need.” Greg looked into Mycroft’s eyes hopefully and with sincerity. He was glad that he saw relief and affection reflected back to him. 

They walked quietly, still holding hands, for almost twenty minutes following that conversation. It was a companionable silence, merely enjoying the company and the world around them as they walked. Greg found it rather peaceful, just strolling at night with Mycroft. That was, until, he was pulled to a halt through his hand still entwined with Mycroft’s. He looked back, to see the man stood stoically.   
“What’s wrong?”   
“We have arrived at my home,” Mycroft said quietly.   
“Oh, you live here? That’s not that far really. Time just flew by,” Greg said, returning to stand close to Mycroft.   
“Yes, it is quite central. A pivotal requirement for my work, unfortunately.”   
Greg gave him a sarcastic look as he followed Myc up to the door, being dragged along by their joined hands. “Yeah, where you work as a ‘PA’,” he posed.   
“Quite,” Mycroft answered with a sly grin. He loved that it had not taken much information at all for Gregory to question the validity of his cover job. He, of course, did work as a PA — that was just not merely the sum of it. Gregory was intelligent, but also intuitive. He released the hand he’d held onto tightly, so that they stood face to face.   
Greg became acutely aware of the proximity to Mycroft, and the breath filling the small void between them. He swallowed, and stood up straight. “Well, this has been really, truly, wonderful,” Greg uttered.   
“I enjoyed myself as well,” Mycroft said honestly. He inexplicably moved closer so that his body was almost pressed up against Gregory’s.   
“Thank you for letting me try again.” Greg’s eyes flickered from Mycroft’s to his lips. He flicked his tongue briefly to moisten his own. He wanted to broach the gap, to kiss him, but he restrained himself.  
_Mycroft’s terms._

“The purity of your intentions have overshadowed the questionability of your actions,” Mycroft uttered, his body feeling like it was on fire and thrumming with electricity at the same time. He looked over Gregory’s features, soaking them all in, and desperately wanting to touch. He wanted to reach out and hold the man close to him, to feel that he wasn’t alone anymore. His heart pounded in his chest as the anxiety screamed alarms in his head, but he wanted it too much to back away.   
“I’m still gonna make it up to you,” Greg responded quietly, edging himself closer until their noses touched.   
“I look forward to it.” Mycroft swallowed and closed his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, but like that didn’t matter since what he wanted to do didn’t require breathing. He summoned all the remaining courage he had to inch closer and press his lips against Gregory’s.   
Greg hummed in enjoyment, kissing back slowly, careful not to push the fragile moment too fast. Mycroft broke the kiss after a moment, and while it was only a gentle touch of lips, Greg felt breathless. He wanted to lean forward and capture those warm lips again, but he refrained. “Myc…” he exhaled, looking up.   
“Mm?” Mycroft answered, opening his eyes to look down at Gregory through his lids. He could read the desire on Greg’s face easily, but was appreciative of the respect given to him. He smiled and leaned in for another kiss, having found that the first barely registered over the exploding going on in his brain. This time, he felt his heart leap at the feeling of Greg responding, the electricity that he’d felt in his body surged in all directions, and his stomach curled up in excitement. He still didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but he was relieved to find that it didn’t matter. He was also thrilled to discover that he enjoyed kissing — he’d been worried that he wouldn’t like being touched at all, and thus cause problems in a relationship. As his mind raced, he realised that he’d been kissing Gregory for some time and needed oxygen. “Greg,” he breathed, standing straight and looking down through his eyelids.   
“That was…”  
“Yeah,” Mycroft agreed, smiling. He felt the sudden urge to run, merely because it was new and new things scared him.   
“Goodnight,” Greg said, reeling from the kiss but aware enough to know that Mycroft needed space.  
“Goodnight.” 

Greg left for home, in a daze of happiness and pleasure, feeling more satisfied over that kiss than he normally did after an evening of shagging his other dates on the rare occasions that had happened. It meant more, he told himself, and it was the start of them repairing the trust that had been broken and working towards a healthy relationship. The promise of everything going to be alright, that there was joy to be had again in the future, was what let him drift away on a cloud. 


	18. Chapter 18

Four months later, Greg and Mycroft had been on numerous dates. They’d progressed well in their relationship, both emotionally and physically. The rocky start was now just that — a rocky start. Greg was pleased to find that after an initial period of nervousness, Mycroft was very affectionate. Once being assured that Greg wasn’t judging Mycroft’s body, or thinking any other of the numerous negative self-image comments Mycroft had made, Mycroft had relaxed into Greg’s touch and enjoyed himself. He would never be able to forget the look of utter peace on his boyfriend’s face after they’d made love the first time. He’d expected having to deal with at least some mild anxiety, but instead, he’d just held onto Mycroft as he lay in his arms, more relaxed than he’d seen him. From then on, Greg had noticed that the intimacy had done wonders for Mycroft’s emotional pain of feeling isolated and alone.   
Greg was so proud of Mycroft’s accomplishments in overcoming some of his anxieties. He was there with him every step of the way, always encouraging and supporting when Mycroft found it too much. He liked to think that Mycroft had come to rely on him being there, and trusted that things would work out alright because of his presence. There had been a few occasions when they’d overshot, overestimated how much Mycroft could tolerate, and the result had been a setback for a while. Still, Greg hadn’t judged and hadn’t let anyone else judge Mycroft either, when the panic attacks came. Mycroft seemed to feel more confident because he knew there wasn’t disaster awaiting him in every corner when he was out with Greg. 

Mycroft was slow in meeting strangers, since Gregory knew _a lot_ of people, but did rather enjoy spending the occasional evening with those friends whom he’d met already; namely, Sally and Dimmock. He was surprised at how comfortable he was to actually be there, in a pub, surrounded by people, merely by having Greg huddled up against him. He had been worried about strangers trying to pick a fight for them being gay, but after Greg had flashed his badge at the first thug to try anything, he’d been comforted that he was as safe as he could be. They, of course, used Gregory’s knowledge to avoid the particularly rough areas and remained in where it was considered generally safer. 

When Gregory asked him if he would like to go on a double date with a new coworker, he’d been hesitant. He wanted to, but the fact that the strangers were also mostly strangers to Greg had unsettled him. But, he rationalised that he’d allowed himself to get comfortable with the status quo for some time and should really try pushing his boundaries once again. He’d agreed. That was how he found himself sitting at a table in a lively Spanish restaurant awaiting their two guests. 

“It’ll be fine, love,” Greg said, taking Mycroft’s hand.   
“I expect so,” Mycroft said, breathing through his nose.   
“You know we can leave at any time, yeah?”  
“Of course. It is just anxiety.”   
Greg smiled and patted Mycroft’s hand. “You’re doing amazingly, you know? You’re such a wonder.” Greg leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek. The subsequent giggle and blush made his heart soar.   
“You are as well, darling,” Mycroft uttered, moving to nuzzle Gregory’s cheek with his nose. He felt much more at ease knowing that Greg was there, and that was all that mattered. Anyone who gave them problems met with Gregory’s, quite frankly impressive, glare.   
“I think we were just a little bit early,” Greg said lightly, checking his watch.   
“Early is best. On time is stressful, and late is not an option.”   
“Yes, I know, you’ve said that a lot. Doesn’t matter, though. The table was ready, so we can occupy ourselves until they get here.”  
“I do not understand why we are going on a double date with these people, still.”  
“Because Taylor’s new, and he was concerned about making friends on the force.”  
“I still fail to see the connection.”  
“Because a couple of days ago he asked if I wouldn’t mind meeting up with him after work, and I had said no, I had plans with you. He then asked if today would suit, and suggested we make it a dinner date with our partners.”  
“And you simply… agreed?” Mycroft asked, raising an eyebrow.   
“Yeah,” Greg answered with a smile. “He’s a friendly bloke, don’t worry. Agreeing to meet up outside of work is just how you make friends, Myc. There’s no nefarious agenda going on. Or are you just confused about wanting to interact with strangers? Because as I’ve said, those of use without social anxiety don’t really see much issue with encountering people we don’t know.”   
“Still seems like something to be avoided,” Mycroft grumbled into his water.   
Greg shook his head good-naturedly. While Mycroft had made remarkable progress in coping being in social situations, he still couldn’t understand why people would put themselves through it willingly. Greg hoped that getting more comfortable with the experience would help him realise that sometimes going outside and seeing other people can be enjoyable and therefore something one _wants_ to do. 

A couple approached their table and seated themselves, offering their hands out for Greg to shake first and then Mycroft. Greg greeted them enthusiastically. “Taylor, hi. This is Mycroft. Mycroft, Taylor.”   
“Nice to meet you,” Mycroft said, his voice clipped, as he extended his hand.  
“Hello. This is Cindy, my girlfriend,” Taylor said, and Cindy shook both of their hands.   
“Greg,” Greg repeated quietly. They smiled at each other, and Greg grasped Mycroft’s hand to let him know it was ok.   
Mycroft analysed both of his guests. Taylor was transgender, on hormones for about eight months, had a cat, worked on cars for a hobby, and didn't have a good relationship with his family. Cindy enjoyed shopping, was talkative, helped at a homeless shelter in the evenings, worked with computers. Mycroft shrugged to himself. Not the most interesting people, he thought, but not utterly mundane either. At least it explained why Taylor was so keen to try make friends at work, or simply in general, and had chosen Gregory as his target.   
“You seem really quiet and reserved,” Taylor commented. Mycroft raised his eyebrow and nodded at him. “That’s fine, just saying.”  
“I’m glad,” Mycroft said. Gregory ran his thumb over his hand gently, and the motion was soothing. He could feel the tension that had built up in his chest begin to fade. He took a breath and decided to brave an explanation. “I have difficulty with social anxiety, and am still learning to manage.”   
“Good on you,” Cindy said in earnest, which made Mycroft quirk his head at her. “You’re doing well so far. Please, just let us know if we can help. We want you to be having a good time too, after all.”   
“Thank you,” Mycroft said in surprise. He glanced over to Gregory, seeing the smile on his face, and then back to his dinner guests whom were both looking at him with friendly gazes. They hadn’t just been accepting, but actually accomodating. A small ball of worry that had anchored itself in his gut just lifted away.   
“You’re a cute couple,” Taylor commented.   
“Yes, utterly adorable,” Cindy added. “So, how did you two meet?”  
Greg burst out laughing. “Well,” he said cheerfully, smiling at Mycroft as he spoke, “it’s a long story.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who followed this story! All the wonderful comments inspired me to keep going (seriously, this story was supposed to be around 10 000 words. It's ended at 50 000...). I hope you all loved the journey and the end!


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